


One Shot Collection

by pastelwitchling



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Echo - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Kylex, M/M, Malex, Maribel, One Shot Collection, forlex, forlex angst, forlex fluff, kylex angst, kylex fluff, malex angst, malex fluff, maribel angst, maribel fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 248
Words: 352,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23160199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelwitchling/pseuds/pastelwitchling
Summary: This is just a collection of my roswell new mexico one shots, mostly malex or kylex, with an occasional maribel.
Relationships: Alex Manes & Kyle Valenti, Alex Manes/Kyle Valenti, Forrest Long & Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes, Maria DeLuca/Isabel Evans, Max Evans/Liz Ortecho, Michael Guerin & Alex Manes, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 416
Kudos: 639





	1. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael gets jealous at seeing Kyle and Alex together, and he and Alex talk outside the Wild Pony.

Michael had wondered what it was about Kyle Valenti that he hated so much. Maybe it was the way he walked into a room all smug, as if a few years in medical school and a doctor’s coat could change the kind of person he was and the things he’d done. Maybe it was the fact that he was the one to stab Isobel with the antidote, or his self-righteous interferences in Michael’s private family business.

But no. As he stood at one end of the Wild Pony, leaning against the wall with his arms limp at his side, a bottle of nearly empty beer in one hand, Michael realized the reason he hated Kyle Valenti was Alex. He watched as the two sat closely at the bar, huddled together as if in their own world. Kyle was laughing, and though Michael doubted he had the capacity to be very funny, Alex seemed to disagree as he laughed along with him.

And Michael _hated_ that.

He hated the way Kyle ran his hand down Alex’s back as if they were accustomed to touching each other, hated the way Kyle raked his fingers through Alex’s hair as if they belonged there, _hated_ the way Kyle clinked their beer bottles together every so often as if it was a secret kind of handshake that was unique to just them.

It’d been weeks since he and Alex had spoken, and Michael realized that it was much easier to be apart from the airman when he thought he was the only one pining, that he was the only one who was in love. After finding out Alex felt the same way, after seeing Alex fight for them, there was nothing more bitter than watching him pull away again. Nothing worse than knowing that he’d had his chance, he’d had a _real_ chance, and he’d spit it back in Alex’s face.

Michael’s jaw clenched as Kyle casually threw an arm over Alex’s shoulders. His fingers tightened and untightened painfully when he realized that Alex didn’t seem to mind any of it. The way their shoulders brushed, the way Kyle smiled so comfortably around him, the way their knees nudged against one another as if they couldn’t contain their excitement, couldn’t run out of stories to tell each other, of things to say, and he hated, hated, _hated_ _every bit of it –_

People shrieked as every beer bottle and glass in the bar suddenly shattered, sending shards everywhere. Michael held up his own hand, shocked to see it covered in glass. He hadn’t felt the shock of his powers coming this time, but he could still feel the aftereffects – the electricity coursing through his veins, the compressions on his chest, the slight migraine – and he gasped.

He looked up to find Alex holding his own hands up, covered in beer and dusting glass shards off his jacket. _Alex_ , Michael thought and stepped forward. He had to check on Alex, to make sure he was okay, but before he could get any closer, he saw Valenti place his hands on Alex’s shoulders, trying to get his attention, asking him if he was okay, if he was hurt.

Michael swallowed and moved away. He saw Alex look around the room and catch his eyes, realization dawning instantly, and Michael held his gaze as he stepped back, daring – _pleading_ – Alex to follow him, to leave Kyle and choose _him_.

Michael finally turned away at the door, his heart racing and his fingers trembling as he stepped outside, the cold air slapping his face, trying to sober him up, to tell him that this was important, that he had to be thinking clearly. For a moment, there was just silence, then the door opened beside him. He faintly registered a drunk mass of voices asking what had happened, another, louder voice reassuring them that they would get a drink on the house, before he caught sight of Alex, his brows furrowed as he stepped out, searching for Michael. When Alex found him, he sighed, his hands in his pockets as he let the door close behind him.

There was a moment of silence, and then, “Kyle’s making sure no one’s hurt. They’re all too drunk to really care though, so you got lucky.” He stepped closer. “What the hell were you thinking?”

But Michael just stared. Alex’s hair strands stuck out messily, his red cheeks looking as if he’d been standing out in the snow for hours, his eyes darker than Michael had ever seen them. He’d almost forgotten how long his eyelashes were, too. He wondered how long Kyle liked to stare at him, how many of Alex’s not-so-imperfect little secrets he’d found just by looking into his eyes.

But instead of asking that, Michael said, “You don’t do that with me.”

Alex blinked. “Do what?”

“Smile,” he said. “You don’t do that with me. You do it with Kyle, you _laugh_ with Kyle. Just not with me.”

Alex stared, then sighed in that way he did when he could understand what Michael was trying to say better than Michael did, and Michael _hated_ that, too. He hated how easily Alex could read him, to see into his thoughts, his heart – it was strange, and unfamiliar, and terrifying.

“Kyle’s my friend,” he said, his voice soft. “Okay, Guerin? That’s it, he’s just my friend –”

“I hate him, Alex,” Michael confessed, and he knew it was stupid, and unfair, and it wasn’t his place, but he couldn’t help it. Lying to Alex’s face once before had left a heavy weight in his chest that he had yet to get rid of, he couldn’t do it again. “I hate how close he gets to you, I hate the way he looks at you sometimes, like he _needs_ you.”

“He does need me sometimes. And I need him.”

Michael felt a lump in his throat. “W-What?”

“Not like that,” Alex said and stepped close enough that Michael could lean his forehead on his shoulder if he wanted to, and he _wanted_ to, but he didn’t know if Alex would let him touch him. “I know that it would hurt you if I said that Kyle means more to me than a friend, a brother, and I _should_. I should hurt you, Guerin, it’s only fair after what you did.”

Michael swallowed and looked down, his nails digging into the brick wall behind him as he braced himself for the words he knew he’d never be able to take, but then he felt Alex’s arm brush against his and he looked up to see the airman lean against the wall next to him.

“But the world’s not fair,” he sighed, “and I can’t do it. I could never lie to you like that, Guerin.”

“Alex…”

Alex searched his face, and Michael couldn’t help but glance at his lips. He wanted so badly to surge forward, to capture Alex’s mouth in his, to pull him against his chest and hold onto him, to inhale his scent, and touch his skin, and hear him moan, but just as he raised his hand to cup Alex’s cheek, Alex’s eyes seemingly caught something and he grabbed Michael’s wrist, keeping his hand away from his face.

Michael’s eyes remained half-lidded, a furrow in his brows. “What is it?” he asked in barely a whisper, unable to say anything louder than that. “What’s wrong?”

Alex’s fingers tightened slightly on Michael’s wrist, and Michael could _feel_ the desperation in his hold, begging Michael never to leave him, never to go anywhere.

Michael was just about to reassure him that he would never leave his side again when Alex said, “Your hand’s uninjured,” he said, though his voice was quiet and his eyes were avoiding Michael’s. “That’s good.”

He let go of Michael’s hand and moved away. “I’m going back inside.”

“What? Whoa whoa whoa,” Michael snapped out of his haze and reached for Alex’s arms, holding him close and still. “Wait a minute, wait, what happened, why’re you going back inside?”

“I told you about my hand, remember? I told you,” he said as he stroked Alex’s cheek. He just wanted Alex to stay. Even if they didn’t do anything, he couldn’t have Alex walk away from him again. He didn’t think he could take it.

“Yeah, I know,” Alex said, an indescribable look in his eyes as he stared at Michael. “Max fixed it. Not because you asked him, not because you wanted it, but because Max decided. You wanted to keep it, right? So it could remind you of every horrible thing in your life that I was a part of. So it could remind you to stay away.”

“What? Alex, _no_ –”

“Guerin, yes,” Alex said, sounding tired. “That’s what all of this has been about. It’s why we can’t talk, it’s why we’ve been making each other so miserable. You didn’t want me to get close, you didn’t want me to tell you that I love you because if I did, then I wouldn’t just be a painful memory anymore, and you don’t know how to see me as anything other than that.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “I… I…”

He clenched his jaw. _Damn it._

Alex shook his head. “You can’t even say it, can you?”

“Alex –”

“I love you, Guerin,” he said, his hands coming up to Guerin’s jaw. “I love you. I never thought I’d be able to say those words out loud, but I have. Just lower one defense, just for me. Show me I’m more to you than a nightmare’s son.”

Michael stepped close enough that their chests were pressed against one another, and he opened his mouth, ready for the words to pour out of his lips, but when nothing came out, he felt Alex’s fingers slowly slip away from his face.

“See?” he whispered, though the disappointment in his eyes told Michael he’d actually hoped he would be wrong. “I was right.”

Before Michael could say anything else, to attempt to rectify the situation, to explain that he loved Alex more than words could ever say, Alex stepped out of his hold, and Michael found his arms falling to his side as Alex went back into the bar. There was a brief moment of music and drunk chattering – the broken glass evidently forgotten – and then the door closed, and Michael was plunged into silence once again.

He was wrong, he realized. There was something worse than Alex walking away from him. It was the look on his face, the one that told him that Michael had broken his heart in ways that couldn’t be fixed, before he’d left.


	2. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some malex fluff and smut.

_It was strange_ , Michael thought, exhaling a deep breath. He ran his hands down Alex’s chest, their foreheads pressed together. He surged forward and caught his lips in an open-mouthed kiss, reveling in the sound of the airman’s moans, the way his arms came around Michael’s shoulders, holding him close.

 _It was strange_ , the way Michael’s hands automatically went to Alex’s legs, spreading them further apart underneath the blanket as he thrusted in deeper, the sound of their heavy breathing filling the trailer. Ten years since they’d slept together, and Michael still knew where Alex was most sensitive, what gave Alex most pleasure. Ten years and he still held Alex like they’d spent their entire lives together.

Michael couldn’t feel himself in control anymore, but his body pushed Alex down further into the bed as if reassuring Michael that it knew what to do, that it knew how to take care of Alex. He threw his head back, his mouth hanging open as he hit Alex’s prostate. Alex moaned loudly, writhing and cursing underneath him. Michael stayed there, deep inside Alex, and pressed his lips to his forehead.

“Guerin,” Alex breathed, his chest rising as Michael’s fingers created a trail, and Alex arched into his touch as his hand went further down.

“I own you,” he breathed against Alex’s ear, biting his lower lip as Alex’s fingers ran through his curls, tugging on the strands, and he felt his body react exactly as it did that day, ten years ago, when he’d felt Alex’s hands on him for the first time. He’d never felt anything like it since.

His heart raced so quickly Michael feared it would stop, his hands trembled against Alex’s chest and stomach, the fire in his gut grew hotter and hotter and hotter, and Michael had to keep himself from thrusting wildly.

When he did move, he moved slowly, his thrusts long and drawn-out. He shivered at the feel of Alex’s hands in his hair, on his back, on his ass, pulling him deeper in. He wanted this to last forever.

His cheek rested against Alex’s, and he could feel Alex’s hot breath against his ear, sending another wave of electricity down his spine. Michael’s thrusts turned even slower, rolling his hips as he dug into Alex’s prostate.

Alex groaned Michael’s name loudly, his nails digging into Michael’s back. Michael bit Alex’s shoulder as the two came at almost the same time, the pleasure coursing throughout his entire body, making him tremble as he held onto Alex.

They panted heavily against each other’s mouths, and Michael took one look at Alex before he was taking his lips in his, kissing him slowly, their tongue brushing against one another. Michael finally pulled back and laid down beside him.

Michael watched as Alex breathed softly, his eyes closed, his long lashes curled against his rosy cheeks, his lips swollen and his hair a dark mess, the strands sticking out as if he’d been out in the wind. And Michael smiled.

“You’re gorgeous,” he breathed before he could remember that he was Michael Guerin, and Michael Guerin didn’t say this stuff.

Alex’s brows furrowed and he looked over at Michael, the corner of his lips turned upward. “What did you just say?”

Michael exhaled slowly, his eyes closing as his hand went to Alex’s arm on its own, keeping him there. “Even your voice is incredible.”

Alex laughed. “Are you drunk or something?”

Michael opened his eyes, searching Alex’s face. “I don’t know, I just feel incredible.”

Alex smiled softly and leaned forward to peck Michael’s lips. “Yeah. Me, too.”

He tried to pull back, but Michael chased his lips and kissed him again, and again, and _again_. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his hand already going to Alex’s stomach before his brain even realized what he was doing.

Alex laughed, and gently pushed at his chest. “You’re so eager.”

 _I can’t help it_ , Michael wanted to say, inhaling Alex’s scent as he moved down, kissing Alex’s chest, his stomach, his thigh. _You’re close enough to touch, and you haven’t been since that day, and it’s like…_

“Kiss me,” Guerin whispered against his lips, and Alex’s gaze softened. He barely managed to nod before Guerin’s lips were on his, kissing him hungrily.

His body moved once again on its own, caging Alex underneath him, keeping him close and safe from the outside world, and Michael thought that Alex was right. He was eager, every muscle in his body begging to get closer to Alex, to feel his lips, his warmth – just as it did that day, when Michael had asked if he and Alex could talk, only to feel his passion and desperate need to have Alex close, take over – and Michael smiled into the kiss.

_It’s like something out of a memory._


	3. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael keeps getting himself arrested in an attempt to get Alex to talk to him.

“Seriously?”

“What can I say?” Michael smirked. “I’m a menace to society.”

Max glowered at his brother from behind the bars, his arms crossed. “You know this is pathetic, right? If you want to talk to him, just _talk_ to him. It’d make all of our jobs a hell of a lot easier.”

Michael stood. “You don’t think I’ve tried? The guy’s freaking _military_ , Max, if he doesn’t want me near him, it’s gonna be damn hard to get near him.”

“Getting yourself thrown in a cell every day is not what he wants, and you know it,” Max said, his expression softening. “We _need_ him, Michael, and because of you, he’s started to hesitate coming in here. You have to stop.”

“No, Max,” Michael shook his head, holding onto the bars. “ _I_ need him. And he won’t talk to me. I’m running out of options here.”

Max pursed his lips, then sighed. “You want me to talk to him for you?”

“No offense, buddy, but I don’t really need a wingman,” Michael said. “Especially not my own brother.”

Max scoffed. “You need all the help you can get.”

“Who’s going to need help?” Alex suddenly said, walking in, his eyes on the papers in his hands. Michael, without really realizing he was doing it, stepped closer to the bars, trying to get as close as possible to Alex.

“Oh – uh –” Max tried, but before he could get a word out, Alex looked up and his eyes caught Michael.

If Michael wasn’t who he was, if he hadn’t known Alex as well as he did, then he may have missed the subtle way Alex tensed, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly on his papers, the way his eyes seemed to shine for a split second, only to be shadowed with an overbearing darkness that spoke of resignation.

If Michael _hadn’t_ known Alex, he might’ve missed all of that. But he did know him, so he hadn’t.

“Sorry about my brother,” Max said, but Michael couldn’t miss the way Max moved aside to give Alex a better view of him.

“Bar fight?” Alex asked, his eyes on Michael, and Michael shrugged a shoulder. Alex then looked to Max, and as he approached them, he said, “Then what are you apologizing for? You’re not the one in a cell.”

His tone was curt, his stand cold and distant, as if Michael was a common criminal. Part of Michael knew he should sit back down, to stay quiet for the remainder of the time that he’d be stuck here, to think of another way to talk to Alex, but he couldn’t move. With Alex so close, Michael felt himself drawn to him, his body refusing to pull away from the bars.

“I finished up those security details you wanted,” he said, handing the papers to Max. “Fixed a few miscalculations, looked over the entry and exit points. Pretty basic stuff, but I wanted to doublecheck everything.”

Max looked over the papers, and after a while, nodded. “Alex, this is amazing. Hey, thank you for coming in, all your help. I know you’ve been busy lately, with your enlistment period ending.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “Wait, how’d you know my enlistment period was…” he trailed off, and Michael saw him glance at him before quickly looking away, sighing. “Right. Well, don’t worry about it. I’m glad to keep busy.”

Max looked like he wanted to say something, his eyes softening as they usually did just before one of his comforting talks, except this time, Michael knew it would be on his behalf. To his luck, before Max could say anything, his two-war radio sounded on his belt, and he picked it up.

Michael only heard static as he focused on Alex who was looking over his work again, though Michael had the strong suspicion he was just doing it to avoid having to look at the cowboy. He didn’t know if he felt great or sick about that.

Before he knew it, Max was talking about needing to head out, and he asked Alex if he wanted a ride back with him. Michael swallowed, his hands tightening to fists around the bars as he thought about Alex leaving, but Alex shook his head, smiled, and said he would drive himself back.

Michael barely registered Max walking out, his eyes on Alex, trying to figure out what to say.

“Are you hurt?” Alex suddenly asked, his eyes down.

For a second, Michael thought he’d heard him wrong, but when Alex glanced at him, he cleared his throat, and smirked. “Uh – why? You wanna nurse me back to health?”

Alex rolled his eyes and started to walk off, but Michael, in a panic, grabbed his sleeve through the bars. “Okay, alright, I’m sorry, don’t leave. I’m sorry.”

Alex raised a brow at him, and Michael let go of his arm, holding his hands up in defense. “I was just… trying to make you laugh.” When Alex looked unimpressed, Michael swallowed and said, “Just – just a few bruises.”

He shook his head. “If this is your attempt at getting my attention –”

“—it is –”

“—it sucks,” he said. “Do you have any idea what this past week has been like? Walking in every morning just to see you beat up? Most people use a phone, Guerin.”

“Would you have picked up?” Alex said nothing, and Michael pursed his lips. He wasn’t completely surprised, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. “I didn’t know you hated me that much.”

Alex frowned. “I don’t hate you, you know I don’t. Don’t say that again.”

Michael’s eyes caught Alex’s, and when Alex looked away, Michael stepped closer, the two a mere few inches apart. He loved seeing Alex in jeans and flannel, the shirt folded at his forearms, a watch and a string bracelet from Maria’s mother on his wrist – so rugged, so grownup, so…

“You look good,” he said quietly, searching his face. “How’ve you been?”

“Better than you, apparently.” He shook his head. “Guerin, you have to promise me you’ll stop doing this. You’re going to get seriously hurt.”

“You _know_ none of those bastards could touch me if I didn’t want them to.”

Alex scoffed, looking at Michael incredulously. “So you’ll risk either breaking a bone or revealing your secret?”

“If that’s what it takes to talk to you,” Michael said, coming as close as he could to the bars so that his body was pressed against them, and he was close enough to Alex to whisper. “You’re avoiding me, and I can’t – I can’t take it.”

“We survived ten years without each other.”

“No, this is different, you know it is. You’re here and you’re not here at the same time.”

“I _tried_ to be here, and you threw me away,” Alex whispered, but it was enough for Michael to feel his anger and pain vibrate through him.

Alex’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and the words died in Michael’s throat. “I was terrified, and I took a chance for you, and you chose someone else. What do you want me to do? Smile every time I see you? Laugh with you like we’re best friends? Like seeing you doesn’t _kill_ me? _What_?”

“Alex…” Michael trailed off. Even when he had nothing else to say, Alex’s name came to his lips, but what could he say to wipe that look off his face? The one that told Michael that he just didn’t trust him anymore? The one that hoped for a word of comfort, but knew he wouldn’t get one?

He opened his mouth, not knowing what would come out, when Max walked back in, a struggling skinny man, Joel, in his hold.

“Found this idiot right outside,” Max said as he handcuffed Joel to his desk, seeing as how Michael was occupying the only cell there. “Drunk out of his mind.”

“Only one who’s drunk is _you_ , Sheriff,” Joel slurred. “You saw the way that filthy Mexican looked at me! If I hadn’t pulled a gun out, he woulda’!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Max said. “Meanwhile, you’re always here.” Michael noticed Max harshly close the cuff around his wrist, and he snorted. “Maybe it’ll give you time to think, or, you know, whatever that mess of a brain usually does in its spare time.”

Max sighed, his hands on his hips. “You guys good to stay here with him for a bit while I go draw up the paperwork? He’s harmless.”

Michael pressed his lips together, wondering whether or not he should remind Max that both he and Alex were perfectly capable of keeping themselves safe no matter _who_ was locked up in there with them, but before he could make the retort, Alex politely said, “Don’t worry, we’re fine.”

Max nodded, ignoring Joel’s accusations of unjust treatment as he walked out.

“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” Joel complained as Michael tried to speak to Alex, though Alex looked like he was done talking.

Michael stuck his tongue in his cheek, and quickly, he lost patience. He and Alex both snapped at Joel to “ _Shut up_!” and the racist seemed to realize then that he wasn’t alone in the room.

His eyes glossed over Michael and settled on Alex, and his expression soured. “Oh, great,” he whined. “I’m really screwed if the fag is _outside_ the cell. This whole country’s goin’ to the flower boys and caravans!”

Michael stared. “The hell did you just call him?”

Joel narrowed his eyes. “You his boyfriend or somethin’?”

“Guerin, stop, don’t engage with him,” Alex said calmly, seemingly unbothered by the insult. “He’s not thinking clearly.”

“When is he ever?!”

“Hey,” Joel whistled, “freak! The sheriff’ll listen to you. You tell ‘im to let me go, or I will make your life a livin’ hell, boy. I can do it, I have that power.”

“Good for you,” Alex said thoughtlessly, his focus on his papers, then he mumbled to himself about security details.

He was so busy with his thoughts, he didn’t notice Joel grab a stapler with his free hand, but Michael did. Joel threw it, and just before it hit Alex’s head, it froze in midair. Alex didn’t look particularly startled that it was flying, only that it had been stopped, though Michael’s glare was more focused on a shocked Joel.

Michael felt his blood boil, the energy coursing through his veins, his head throbbing as he forced the stapler open, turning it against Joel in the air.

“You,” he growled, “are gonna pay for that, you _asshole_.”

“Damn it, Guerin, stop!” Alex hissed, taking the stapler in his hand. While Joel stuttered behind him, he turned to face Michael, his voice low. “What were you thinking?”

“He was going to hit you!” Michael said. “Now, get out of my line of vision so I can blow him up.”

“I can look after myself,” he said, and went to place the stapler on the opposite side of the desk, all the while, Joel stammering nervously.

“Hey, d-did you see that? That stapler _flew_ , did _you_ do that? Hey, freak, _answer_ me –”

Joel grabbed Alex’s arm, and Michael saw panic flash across Alex’s face for only a split second before he grabbed Joel’s wrist, turned his arm, and in a flash, Joel’s face was on the desk, his arm twisted painfully over his head as he screamed, Alex pressing down.

“Grab me again,” he said quietly, his voice dark, “and I’ll tear your arm out of its socket.”

Joel wailed loudly, tears running down his drunk face as he screamed, “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry, p-please!”

But it was as if Alex couldn’t hear him, his eyes out of focus.

Michael moved his lips, his words silent. “Alex,” he finally said, his voice soft, but it seemed to be enough to wake Alex out of his trance.

The airman blinked, his brows furrowed, and once he realized what he was doing, he stepped back quickly as if Joel had been on fire. He held his own hands up in front of him, his expression a mix of shock and horror.

“Alex,” Michael tried, “Alex, it’s okay.”

“I – I have to – go, I…” Alex backed toward the door as Max came in.

“Alright, Joel, let’s get this over…” he trailed off, looking at the mess of papers on the ground, the crying Joel slumped over his desk, the distressed look on Michael’s face, and he frowned. “What the hell happened? Hey, Alex, are you okay?”

Alex nearly jumped at Max’s hand on his shoulder, muttering quick apologies as he hurried out, despite Michael calling him to come back.

Max kept his eyes on Joel as he approached Michael. “Okay,” he said, his eyes dark, “what’d you do to Alex? What’d you say to him?”

_I-I look in the mirror, and I… I don’t even see myself sometimes._ _I see my father._

Michael shook his head. “I don’t think it’s what I said, Max. I… I think it’s what I didn’t.”


	4. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex gets shot and Michael fears for him.

“How is he?” Michael asked as soon as Kyle stepped out of the hospital room.

Kyle frowned, tilting his head at Michael. “How long have you been sitting here?”

Michael’s head fell against the wall to properly look up at the surgeon, his entire back having gone numb from the countless hours of being here, his arms resting on his knees, his fingers fiddling nervously. They were still covered in Alex’s blood, as were Michael’s sleeves. He hadn’t bothered washing it off.

“How is he?” he repeated instead of answering, and Kyle sighed.

“He’s fine, the bullet’s out. Luckily, it missed his major organs.”

Michael swallowed, his fingers tightening to fists. “And the wound? How bad is it?”

“It’s closed, Guerin,” Kyle said, his voice surprisingly soft. “I sealed it, and in a few weeks, he can come back, and get the strings removed. He’s _fine_.”

Michael tapped his fists against his knees, nodding. “Great!” he exclaimed, “That’s great, good, it’s good – I’ve been feeling a little guilty cause, you know, if I hadn’t asked him to hack into those secret government files, he wouldn’t have been there when we were ambushed, and he wouldn’t have… gotten shot.”

His words turned quieter and quieter until he stopped talking completely. He realized what he was doing, and blinked, snapping himself out of his thoughts. “But uh – that’s good, that he’s okay because I can – I can finally leave.”

When he glanced back up at Kyle, he saw him shaking his head. “What?” he said, defensive.

“Word of advice?”

“Not from you.”

“Don’t say that in front of Alex,” he said, and Michael frowned.

“Say what?”

“That you’re here because you feel guilty,” he said, and Michael went still. “He’s a lot tougher than you give him credit for, Guerin, but…” he shook his head, “no one’s that tough.”

Kyle walked away with the mention of coming back with Alex’s medication, but Michael had stopped listening. He clenched and unclenched his fists, staring at the white door beside him. Behind it, Alex was lying in a hospital bed, probably strung up to a hundred tubes, covered in a million bandages, his skin covered in deep bruises, burns, and scratches –

Michael gasped, his palms pressing into his eyes, trying to block out the mental images of Alex dying on a white bed.

He got to his feet, exhaling a long, shaky breath as he paced outside the door. He finally settled the debate in his head, insistent that until he saw Alex with his own eyes, he would just imagine the worst, and before he could convince himself otherwise, he pushed the door to Alex’s room open, and walked in.

He’d barely made it two steps before he froze. Alex wasn’t tied up to tubes, and he definitely wasn’t dying. He had a few dark bruises on his cheek, temple, and shoulders, and his lip was cut, but aside from that, his skin looked as smooth and soft as ever. He was sitting up, shirtless, attempting to slip his sneakers on.

“Whoa,” Michael hurried to Alex’s side, his hands on his chest, pushing him back. “What’re you doing?”

“You’re still here,” Alex croaked, looking like he’d just woken up.

“Yeah, and you’re…” Michael lost breath. He hadn’t noticed at first because Alex had been hunched over, but now, the bandage wrapped around Alex’s side was thick and _apparent_. He knew the wound had been big, but had it been deep enough that Alex needed this much force to keep it from bleeding?

Alex followed his gaze and sighed, lifting Michael’s chin with his fingers before immediately dropping his hand. “Stop it, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, no, I know, I just,” he nodded. “I – I know.”

Alex searched Michael’s face, his brows furrowed. “Guerin.”

“Hm?”

“Your hands,” he said, and Michael looked up from Alex’s bandages to find that his palms were pressed against Alex’s nipples, his fingers unconsciously stretching into his chest hair.

He blushed, pulling his hands back as Alex huffed a chuckle. “You’ve _got_ to calm down.”

Michael rubbed his hands together, then realized Alex was reaching for his shirt, and he stopped him again. “What’re you doing?”

Alex blinked. “Getting dressed?”

“Why?”

A pause, then, “You’re not being very subtle here, Guerin.”

“Why do you need to get dressed? You know you’re not leaving, right?”

“Are you telling me what to do?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Michael said, gently guiding Alex onto his bed. “Come on, lie back down.”

“I’m not going to – _Guerin_ , would you stop for a second?” Alex held Michael’s wrists, his grip gentle. “I promise you, I’m okay.”

“Alex, you’ve been shot,” he said, his hands gripping Alex’s shoulders so tightly as if he was the only one anchoring him to earth. “It’s okay to not be okay. You don’t have to lie to me.”

“ _Lie_ to you?” he chuckled. “Have you forgotten where I’d been the past decade? I’ve gone through a lot worse than a gunshot.”

Michael’s nails dug into Alex’s skin as he stared at him. “That’s not better, Alex!”

The fear and panic he’d been experiencing since Alex had been shot must’ve come through in his voice because Alex’s smile turned small, his brows furrowing as he watched Michael, and he nodded. “Okay. Okay, Guerin, I’m sorry. I’m lying back down, okay?”

Michael swallowed a sigh as he helped lay Alex against his pillows, his fingers running across the skin right above the bandages. He felt the fabric, his jaw clenching as he thought of the deep wound underneath it. When Alex’s hand covered his, and he looked up to the airman’s face, he noticed the dark circles under his eyes, his dry lips, his heavy lids. He was exhausted.

He barely registered Alex calling his name as he looked around the room, settling on a bottle of water on the small couch in the corner. He kept a hand on Alex’s bandages, while his other reached out as he used his powers to levitate the bottle to him. He grabbed it, holding it to Alex’s lips.

“Drink, you need to stay hydrated.”

“What – Guerin,” he barely had time to say before Michael was tipping the bottle. Alex drank what he could, large drops of water falling onto the bedsheet before he pulled back, sputtering and coughing.

“Damn it, sorry,” he said, patting Alex’s back. “Sorry, are you okay?”

“I’m –” he cut off, his hand on his torso. “God, my chest is on fire.”

“Fire,” Michael kept his hand on Alex’s back, rubbing soothing circles. “Maybe – uh – maybe you need some ice. Ice chips, or uh – maybe you’re just hungry.”

“Actually, Guerin, I think –”

“—no, eating might make it worse now. Maybe –”

“—listen to me –”

“—okay, I’ll go call one of the nurses—”

“— _please_ just –”

“—forget it,” his fingers dug into Alex’s back as he muttered, “What do those morons know about anything? I could barely stand Valenti in here, touching you –”

But Michael’s complaints were cut short as Alex brought a hand around the nape of his neck, pulling him down and taking his lips in his own. Michael was initially surprised, but as Alex kissed his lips again and again, he melted into his hold, and his eyes fluttered shut.

Alex pulled away, but Michael kept their foreheads pressed together.

“I just… wanted you to stop talk – _worrying_. I wanted you to stop worrying.”

Michael swallowed, his eyes falling to Alex’s lips. He could feel the airman start to pull away, his hand slipping from Michael’s neck, but before he could separate them, Michael leaned down, brushing his lips to Alex’s before losing control and kissing him hungrily.

Alex made a startled noise in the back of his throat, and Michael ran a hand from Alex’s bandages, up his chest, and rested it against Alex’s jaw. He hovered over the airman, pushing himself closer to the bed, desperate to get closer, closer, _closer_.

When they separated to breathe, Michael panted, “You’re getting it checked _every single day_ until it heals. That’s not up for negotiation, Private.”

Alex bit his lower lip and kissed Michael again. “Kyle’s the only one I trust to do it,” he breathed.

Michael groaned, pecking Alex’s lips. “Valenti?”

“You want people asking questions?”

He sighed, holding Alex’s face tight enough in his hands that the airman laughed, attempting to pull away.

“Fine, fine,” he said, bringing an arm around Alex’s shoulders, keeping him close, careful to avoid his waist. “I can compromise.”

“Good,” Alex smiled, his voice deep, his eyes already closing. “Now, get on this bed and touch me.”

Michael smirked, leaning over Alex’s body only for his hand to come down to his stomach, feel the bandage, and panic. He pulled back with a gasp, his eyes immediately falling to where the wound should be, making sure it wasn’t bleeding.

“Guerin?” Alex raised a brow, stretching a hand out to him.

Michael raked Alex’s entire body; his chest, his arms, his hands, his stomach, his hair, his eyes, his lips – and he bit his own lower lip so hard he thought he could taste blood.

“When you’re healed.”

Alex’s eyes widened, as if he expected Michael to be joking, and when Michael kept his expression apologetic, his shoulders fell. “Oh, come _on_.”

“I hate it, too,” he shook his head, “ _believe_ me, but I’m not gonna risk hurting you.”

“Guerin, I –”

Michael held up the bottle in Alex’s direction, and despite it being cold, it did nothing to calm his racing and heated thoughts as he watched Alex lay on his bed, his bare torso flexing, his bellybutton peeking out just below the bandages.

He swallowed. “You want more water?”

Alex pressed his lips together. “I was actually hoping for something a little thicker than water.”

“Alex!”

“I think I’ve earned it at this point!”

“You’re not making this any easier, you know!”

“Since when are you so obsessed with health?”

“Just drink the damn water, Private!”


	5. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A telepathic link brings Michael to Alex's side in a time of great danger.

Alex felt like he was underwater. His body weighed down heavily, and aside from his own deep breathing and a faint alarm in the background, he couldn’t hear anything. He felt something warm trickling down his forehead, and as he reached to touch it, realized his hands and sleeves were covered in blood. Beads of sweat rolled down his neck, and Alex soon realized that the reason he’d been struggling to breathe was the abnormally high humidity.

Alex attempted to sit up and nearly fell back down, a stabbing pain in his right leg. He clenched his jaw, taking in his surroundings. He was in the Project Shepherd bunker, though this one was destroyed, a red light flashing, somehow making everything darker. The computers lay on the floor, their screens cracked, some cut in half completely. The keyboards were burned away, files and glass and what looked like blood covered the table and floor.

The alarm grew louder and louder until it blared in Alex’s head just as his eyes caught a pair of legs behind the table. Alex approached the body slowly, an inexplicable hesitance in his step, a dread building in his chest, as if trying to remind him of something urgent, begging him to stay away.

_Air Force_ , Alex thought, recognizing the uniform. When he caught sight of the face, he froze. There he was, soaked in a puddle of his own blood, his father lying with his dead eyes open and staring into space.

Alex’s fingers trembled and he whispered, “Dad…”

_CRASH!_ Alex heard from the outside, and his head snapped to the door, his hand going to the gun which he usually kept on his belt, but he quickly realized his weapon had been taken from him. Alex kept his eyes on his father as he moved back, his memory of the past twenty-four hours flashing at the forefront of his mind. His father and Flint surprising him in a parking lot, kidnapping him, tying him to a chair with a promise that he wasn’t actually going to hurt Alex, but that Alex was meant to serve as bait for an alien monster.

_“You are the only person who’s touched part of that ship,”_ his father’s voice echoed in his head. _“It’ll be drawn to you, but your brother and I will get to it before it touches you. Understand, son? I will_ not _let it harm you.”_

Alex’s jaw clenched, his fists trembling, his eyes burning, though he wouldn’t shed a tear. “Damn it, Manes,” he whispered, “you psychotic son of a bitch.”

_CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!_

Panic rose in Alex’s chest as he fumbled for his father’s gun, wondering where Flint was. He looked around, terrified he would find his brother’s dead body limp against a wall or thrown into a corner, but he found no trace of Flint anywhere. As he cocked the gun, he was unable to help but glance at his father, an ache in his chest at the sight.

“Dad,” he breathed just before the big door was suddenly torn of its hinges and flung to the inside of the bunker, crashing loudly against the wall.

Alex aimed his weapon, trying not to stumble at the severe pain shooting throughout his entire body from his leg, but when his brother walked through the front door, seemingly unharmed, he lowered his defenses.

“Flint?”

But it was as if Flint couldn’t hear him, his eyes staring straight ahead. “Flint,” he tried, taking a step closer to his brother, and his eyes narrowed. Flint, Alex now saw, was not completely unharmed. The veins across his neck, face, and hands were black, leading all the way up the sleeves of his uniform.

“Hey,” he said softly, cursing the tremble in his voice, halting in his steps, “can you hear me?”

Flint slowly turned his entire body to Alex, tilting his head. Alex thought his brother might speak, reach out to him, anything to indicate that he needed help, but his expression remained numb, and before Alex realized what he was doing, Flint had pulled out the gun from his belt and started shooting at Alex.

Alex jumped to duck behind the big table at the center of the room, careful to keep any limbs from poking out as a million thoughts raced through his head. His father was dead, Flint was clearly possessed, and no one knew where they were.

Alex took a deep breath, pushing those other thoughts aside. If he didn’t focus, he was never going to make it out of here. He forced himself to exhale slowly. _One thing at a time_. He checked his gun and cursed; one bullet left. He considered the exits, and tightened his hold on the gun. There was only one door, and the whatever-it-was possessing Flint was guarding it. He looked around, looking for any other way out of the room, and his eyes fell on a small door in the opposing wall. The storage room.

Alex tried not to panic as he considered that the only door out of the bunker would lead to his entrapment. As he expected, Flint’s gun eventually clicked emptily, and he took his chance, raising his weapon, but as he pointed it at Flint, he hesitated.

It was weak, his family may have called it, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but remember long ago, before their dad had discovered that Alex was gay, when Flint had kept him safe from bullies at school, when he had let him play with his toy planes when he couldn’t stop crying, when he kept Alex distracted during their parents’ fights. And he couldn’t pull the trigger.

His brother’s body was free of wounds, and Alex guessed his father had had the same hesitance. He glanced at his father, and knew that if he wasn’t going to shoot, he had no choice but to make an escape.

He thought of running to the door, roughly shoving his way past Flint who seemed to be without a weapon now, but just as he stood, Flint wretched one of the iron rails out of the ground, and held it up as easily as he would a baseball bat. Alex’s eyes widened as Flint approached him, and, not knowing what else to do, ran into the storage room.

The space was very small, and Alex, unable to lock the door, kept his back against it. He held the gun tightly with both hands, and gasped as the door behind him shook suddenly, as if Flint had thrown himself against it.

 _It’s no use_ , Alex thought. He knew he wouldn’t use the gun, he couldn’t be the one to kill Flint, even if it meant his own death. The door shook violently again, and Alex dropped the gun, his hands against the wood.

 _Guerin_ , he thought, as he always did when he knew he was about to die. Except this time, Alex couldn’t see a way out.

“Guerin,” he breathed, Michael’s name the only thing he _could_ say, and Flint slammed into the door behind him again. It was stupid, to hope that Michael would suddenly show up, but if only for the last time, Alex wanted to see him one last time. He just wanted to see him.

*

“Drive faster,” Michael said, tapping his fingers nervously on his leg, his eyes narrowed at the distance in the road, half-expecting to see smoke rising or anything to explain this dread in his chest.

“I’m driving as fast as I can,” Kyle said. “I swear, Guerin, if you pulled me out of my rounds just so you could bother Alex –”

“I’m not trying to _bother_ Alex, I’m trying to help Alex,” Michael said, then muttered, “Something’s wrong.”

“How would you possibly know that?”

“Just – I feel it,” he said, not caring that he sounded agitated. “Like a psychic link or something.”

“You mean like the one you have with other aliens?” Kyle frowned, shaking his head. “Guerin, that’s not possible, Alex isn’t one of you.”

“Would you just drive, Valenti?!” he snapped. “I hope I’m wrong, okay? I hope whatever this is, it’s got nothing to do with Alex, but I’ve had this weird heavy feeling in my chest since last night, and until I _see_ him, I just know it’s not gonna go away.”

Kyle was silent a moment, then, “Maybe you just miss him.” When Michael looked to Kyle, he saw his eyes focused straight ahead, his fists tightening ever so slightly on the steering wheel. “And maybe this whole panic thing is an excuse to see him because you know that unless I take you to the bunker, unless I walk in first, he won’t let you near him.”

Michael clenched his jaw, his hands tightening to fists as the dread grew. He huffed. “If you really thought that, you wouldn’t be helping me.”

“Well,” Kyle said, “maybe I think Alex needs to see you just as much as you need to see him.”

Michael frowned. “What does that mean? Hasn’t he been okay?”

“Okay,” Kyle scoffed, shaking his head. “What do you think?”

Michael rubbed his chest at the ache that was only growing, every beat of his heart echoing Alex’s name, begging him to see Alex, touch Alex, hear Alex’s voice. And yet, part of Michael was relieved to know that Alex had been no less miserable about the distance and tension between them these past few months. The other part was flooded with guilt for being relieved.

“You better not make me regret showing you where the bunker is,” Kyle said. “I swear, Guerin, if you do anything to him –”

“I _love_ him,” Michael growled in a way that told Kyle that was the only defense he needed. “Just because you guys have your secret clubhouse, it doesn’t mean you’re closer to him than I am.”

“We share a lot more than a clubhouse, Guerin,” Kyle said with a finality in his tone, but Michael wasn’t having it.

He was about to demand that Kyle explain what he meant when he got a sudden, head-splitting migraine, and he hunched over, gasping.

 _“Guerin,”_ he could hear Alex’s whisper, begging Michael to be with him. The ache spread to his entire body in an instant, and he felt a pain and fear he’d never felt before, every fiber in his being calling out to Alex.

It lasted only a second, but Michael still felt the tremble of it in his bones as he snapped back to reality, panting heavily. The car had stopped, Kyle’s hand was on his back, calling his name.

Michael shoved his arm aside and said, “We have to get to Alex, _now_.” Kyle asked what had happened while Michael’s hands were already on the dashboard. “I’m about to see how fast this thing can really go. Hold on to something.”

Before Kyle could say anything, Michael channeled every bit of his powers into the car, forcing the tires to turn faster than they ever had. He heard Kyle yell a surprised, “Whoa!” as the car suddenly zoomed along the road, fast enough that the windows began to fracture, the car itself whistling as it raced against the wind, Michael and Kyle both pushed back into their seats, though Michael was sure to keep contact with the dashboard.

The bunker was in view barely fifteen seconds later, and Michael slowed the car down. Before it had even stopped, Michael noticed Kyle’s face had fallen and before he could ask what was wrong, Kyle slowly said, “Where’s the door?”

Michael frowned and followed his gaze to find that the door, which he assumed led into the bunker, had vanished, the doorway coated in rust. Michael narrowed his eyes, and his heart fell into his stomach. That wasn’t rust.

“Blood,” Kyle whispered, and Michael opened his door, jumping out and falling into a run, calling Alex’s name. He’d barely made it two steps inside when he saw Jesse Manes, lying dead on the floor. His eyes widened as they looked up and caught Alex, held up against the wall by his neck, having not registered Michael even entering. The figure looked familiar, a picture Alex had shown him on a computer at some point, but Michael couldn’t seem to register more than the man’s hand around Alex’s neck, strangling him. _His_ Alex.

“Who,” he panted as he moved closer, “the _hell_ … do you think you are?”

The man turned to face him, and Michael stopped. He stared, his eyes wide. “ _Oh_ … you’re an alien.” His eyes went to the airman. “And you’re hurting him. Let him go before I tear you to pieces.”

“No,” Alex choked, trying desperately to pry the man’s hands off his neck. “Don’t… kill… him.”

“What? Alex –”

“Alex!” Kyle appeared behind him, staring at the man, shocked. “Flint? What’re you doing?!”

Michael raised a hand at _Flint_ , trying to focus his energy on breaking his arm instead of blowing him up. Michael’s arm shook as he put everything he had into it, but this alien was strong.

“Valenti,” Michael said through grit teeth, beads of sweat already forming on his temples, “who is this guy?”

Kyle was slowly walking alongside Michael, his eyes on Alex. “He’s one of Alex’s brothers. Something’s wrong with him.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “His _brother_?”

Right then, the alien released Alex, and he fell to the floor, coughing violently, his right leg spasming. There was a dark bruise under his eye, his wrists were bleeding, his lip was cut, blood was streaming down the side of his face, and his neck was covered in deep purple bruising. And Michael saw red.

He clenched his jaw as Kyle hurried to Alex’s side, the alien’s eyes on him now. Michael narrowed his eyes as he imagined Flint’s organs all compressing inside him, not enough to kill him, though it should’ve caused serious pain, and the alien abruptly stopped halfway to Michael. Flint looked confused for a moment, as if he knew there was something wrong but couldn’t put his finger on it, and he shook it off, continuing his path to the cowboy.

Michael frowned. “What the hell?” and dodged the alien as it leapt for him. He crouched beside Alex and Kyle, using his powers to roughly throw Flint out the bunker. “I don’t get it,” he said, “even if he’s using that guy –”

“— _Flint_ –”

“—as a vessel, he should still be able to feel pain. I attacked his body from the inside, he didn’t even flinch!”

Kyle frowned. “If hurting the organs isn’t affecting him, it must mean that…” he trailed off, and their eyes widened as they all looked to each other.

The alien reappeared at the door wearing Flint’s face, and Michael could see it. The black veins were frightening, but the dark circles under Flint’s eyes, his pupils several shades too light, his lips almost white.

Michael swallowed. “He’s already dead.”

Alex shook his head, looking like he was about to cry. “No…”

Michael stared at him, at the way his head hung, miserable and pained… and he stood. “Alright, you bastard,” he growled, his hands clenched to fists at his sides. “Now you’re _really_ gonna pay.”

The alien barely managed to take one step before it was shoved roughly against the wall by an invisible force. Michael stepped closer, his hand outstretched towards the monster, imagining the devastated and broken expression on Alex’s face as he used every bit of power he had to breaking every bone in the monster’s body.

As his powers grew stronger and stronger, Michael said, “Alex, close your eyes.” He looked over his shoulder to see that Alex had not done what he was told, but was instead staring directly at Michael, as if afraid that if he looked away, he really would fall apart.

Michael held his gaze as he hesitated, then sharply turned his fist and Alex winced as the sound of Flint’s neck breaking echoed throughout the entire room.

*

Michael felt like he’d been standing here for hours, watching Alex stare blankly ahead at the white walls of the hospital room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, despite Kyle’s insistence that he lie down.

“Injured lung, a few broken ribs, a sprained ankle, and some serious nerve damage in your leg,” Kyle had said, his voice soft, his touch gentle and friendly as it always was around Alex, and for a short minute, Michael couldn’t find it in him to hate Valenti, not when Alex looked so numb. “That means rest, Manes. I don’t care how tough you are, you’re not leaving this room for a couple of weeks. Better get comfortable.”

But Alex, of course, did not think rest was necessary. He’d sat up before Kyle had even left the room, and slipped his own jacket back on. And since then, he’d just stared at nothing, tugging on the hems of his sleeves.

“How’s your leg?” Michael asked for what had to have been the tenth time, hoping that this time, Alex would hear him.

“Fine,” Alex said, barely moving his lips.

Michael swallowed and stood straight, gesturing to Alex’s jacket. “Would you maybe wanna wash that?”

He shook his head slightly, and Michael hesitated before coming closer. “I felt you, Alex. Out there.” Alex said nothing, and Michael exhaled a nervous breath before he closed the distance between them, his hand brushing against Alex’s arm. “I knew you needed me, and it’s like… it’s like I couldn’t breathe until I saw you.”

Alex didn’t react, didn’t speak, didn’t even look up. Michael swallowed and sat down beside him.

“Look… I know you’re hurting right now, but…”

“Can we not?” he looked to Michael, his eyes red and shining. “I just…” he shook his head, “I-I don’t know how to…” He closed his eyes, covering his face with his hands for a moment before he brought them down, exhaling a deep, shaky breath as he whispered, “My father and brother are dead, so can we just not?”

“Alex, they were monsters. You’re better off –”

“ _Guerin_ ,” he croaked. “My _father_ … and my _brother_ … are dead.” A tear fell down his cheek, his fists shaking on his lap. “Okay?”

Michael stared, and after a moment’s pause, nodded silently. He covered Alex’s hand with his own, his hold tight. Alex didn’t cry again, his muscles stiff under Michael’s touch, though his thumb stretched out enough to hold onto Michael’s finger. Michael looked at Alex to see his brows furrowed, though his eyes said nothing, and he wished that he would feel more than that, that their psychic link would allow Michael to feel rage, fear, grief, confusion – _anything_ but nothing. But that was what he felt. Nothing.


	6. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After losing his brother and father, Alex finds he cannot be touched by anyone but Michael.

No matter what Alex did, no matter how tightly he held his hands together, how hard he bit into his thumb, how badly he wished it would stop, his fingers continued to twitch nervously. He closed his eyes as images of his father’s and brother’s dead bodies flashed over and over in his mind, the sound of Flint’s neck as it broke resounding in his head, his limp body falling to the ground haunting his thoughts.

Alex’s jaw clenched, his eyes shut tight. This wasn’t helping. He thought that if he’d come to the Wild Pony, if he’d gotten out of his cabin and actually sat amongst living, breathing humans, he’d be able to breathe a little easier, that the voices in his head would stop. But nothing worked. Nothing quieted them down.

He rested his head on his folded arms, his nails digging into his elbows, the burn painful but not enough to make him forget. So much noise, _too_ much nose, and he could still _feel_ it. The tiny shards of glass that scratched his skin, the chains around his wrists and ankles, his brother’s hands around his neck, strangling him, his lungs burning as they begged for air that would never come, tears prickling the backs of his eyes, blood falling down the side of his face, and the chill that went down his spine as his eyes caught his father’s corpse, drawing him closer and closer until he saw those dead blue eyes staring at him –

“Alex?” he felt a hand on his shoulder and all but jumped, yanked out of his thoughts to the music playing in the background, the light from the Wild Pony’s sign, the customers’ chatter, and Maria worried face from across the bar. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yes,” Alex automatically said, looking around the place, half-expecting to find a dead body strewn somewhere, a fire started, a gun aimed at him, but when he found nothing of the sort, he exhaled a shaky breath and took hold of his forgotten beer bottle. “I’m – uh – yeah, I’m – I’m fine.”

Maria’s frown deepened. “What happened to you?”

Alex rubbed his face with one hand. “Please, just – don’t do that, okay? I really don’t want anyone in my head.”

“It doesn’t take a psychic to know that something’s seriously wrong, Alex,” she said, her voice softening as she leaned closer to him. “Talk to me, what’s going on?”

Alex bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood. He wanted more than anything to talk to Maria, but he couldn’t. Aliens and Project Shepherd shouldn’t even exist, so until the military could release an official statement that Jesse and Flint Manes died in service, Alex had been very cruelly directed to act as if he knew nothing.

“Nothing,” he finally said, following the script, his voice quiet as his brother’s cold, dead eyes stared back at him in his memories. “Nothing at all.”

“Alex…” Maria reached for him, and as soon as her hand touched his, Alex felt his father’s blood soaking his fingers, his brother’s hands on his neck, the chill as he thought he would surely die at the hands of his family run up his spine – and he flinched, pulling away with a gasp.

“S-Sorry, I…” he shook his head, his hand trembling as he held it close to his chest. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Maria swallowed. “Alex, you’re not okay. Do you, I mean – should I call Kyle?”

“Maria, it’s not that serious,” Alex said, rubbing his fingers before he reached for his drink. “I just haven’t been sleeping that much lately.”

Her brows furrowed. “What happened lately?”

Alex shook his head, closing his eyes as the sound of gunshots grew louder and louder and _louder_ , and his fingers tightened around his bottle until he felt the glass fracture beneath his grip. “War,” he said, his own voice lost to him under the sounds in his head, taunting him, reminding him that he’s a Manes man, and that above all else, his legacy was to suffer a life without any peace. Not even for a moment.

Then, he felt it again. That pain in his leg, that blood seeping down the side of his face, the heavy _BANG BANG BANG_ against his back as his brother beat the door behind him open – and he all but jumped off the stool to find Maria with her hand outstretched towards his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said, coming around the bar hurriedly with her hands up as if to prove she wouldn’t touch him again, “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t think it would – I thought –”

But Alex wasn’t listening. He looked down at his hands, his brows furrowed, his jaw clenched. His very bones felt like they were vibrating, his heart was racing, his stomach felt like acid – _what’s happening to me?_

“Alex, hey, look at me,” Maria’s soft voice pulled him back, and he’d barely caught her comforting eyes before he felt someone walk into him, and he violently flinched away.

“Whoa, hey,” some drunk blonde reached a hand to him, “sorry, man, you good?”

Alex moved from his touch, terrified that whatever had happened to him in that brief moment would happen again.

He glanced at Maria, unable to look her in the eyes for long, “Y-You know, it’s – uh – it’s getting late, I should go.”

And without another word, Alex walked out, ignoring Maria’s calls to him. He got into his car, his hands trembling on the steering wheel. The drive lasted twice as long as it should’ve because he stopped every so often, feeling like he was going to be sick. He came to another stop at a traffic light, and parked the car even as the light turned green. He was the only one on the road, the only person, he guessed, for miles now.

He rested his forehead on the wheel, the quiet around him doing even less to calm his racing thoughts than the bar had done. Alex covered his ears as the sounds grew – the screams, the growls, the shattered glass and shredded wood and clanging of iron against iron –

Alex’s own growls turned to screams as he beat his temples with his fists, begging his head to _shut up_ , the thoughts to stop suffocating him.

His arms fell limply to his side after what felt like an hour had gone by, and numbly, Alex started the car again, and made his way back to his cabin. He caught a figure sitting on his porch, and at first assumed it to be Kyle. Then, he realized who it really was, and he frowned.

He climbed out of the car, his body aching with a fatigue he didn’t think was possible after everything he’d endured, and as he did, he said, “What’re you doing here, Guerin?”

He stood, hands in his jacket pockets. “You’re always coming over, thought I’d give it a try.”

“Uh huh,” Alex raised a brow at him, pocketing his keys.

Michael nodded, his lips pressed together. “It’s cold. Do you always get cold waiting for me outside?”

“I don’t mind it,” was all Alex said on that matter, and shook himself from that train of thought, walking past Michael. “Look, I get you’re trying to look out for me, but now’s not really a good time, okay?”

Michael moved, blocking Alex’s path, his eyes searching Alex’s face, his expression suddenly serious. “Have you been crying?”

Alex’s brows furrowed and he looked away. “Guerin, I’m tired, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

He made his way to the cabin, only to hear Michael following him. He sighed as he unlocked the door and walked in, blinking against the bright lamplight before his eyes adjusted. He didn’t have to look to know that Michael had come in as well, closing the door behind him.

“There’s a spare key under the potted plant by the door,” he said as he opened the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water. “In case you don’t want to wait on the front porch again.”

Michael had been watching him, Alex knew, but as their eyes met, he smirked. “You think I’m gonna keep coming back?”

 _I think you’re stubborn_ , he almost said, the cold water bottle against his fingers making him shiver. _I think, despite everything, you care about me, and you like being around me._

But instead of voicing his thoughts, he took a sip of water and asked, “How long were you out there anyway?”

Michael shrugged, and had Alex not known him so well, he may have missed the way the humor in his expression turned forced. “You sounded weird when I called you.”

“When you called me,” Alex repeated, and frowned. “Guerin, that was this morning.”

Michael pursed his lips, his eyes focused on Alex as he approached him. “Was I wrong to worry then?”

_Of course_ , he wanted to say, _I’m completely fine_. But try as he might, the words remained stuck in his throat, as if his body wouldn’t allow him to lie to Michael.

“Alex,” he stepped closer. “What happened with your family –”

“I’ve been through worse,” was all Alex said, “I can deal with this, it’s just going to take some time.” Alex crossed his arms in an attempt to seem unbothered, and he moved around the counter to get as far away from Michael as he could without alerting the cowboy.

He just forgot that Michael knew him fairly well, too. Michael’s eyes narrowed, and he took another step closer to Alex. Alex, unable to help remember what had happened when he was touched at the bar, stepped back.

“Well,” he tried, “you’ve seen me, I’m perfectly fine, so you should probably –”

“You’re moving away from me,” Michael said, cutting him off. “Why?”

Alex’s hands clenched so tightly he felt the burn of his nails digging into his palms. “I’m not.”

“Oh?” Michael suddenly moved so close to Alex that the airman, without time to think, gasped and stumbled backwards until he hit a wall. Michael stopped at a short distance from him. “Alex, what… why won’t you let me touch you?”

Alex pressed his lips together, unable to think of any lie that he could or _wanted_ to use now. Not with Michael.

“Hey,” Michael said, “it’s _me_ , Private.”

Alex stared, then, slowly and very quietly, he said, “I can’t sleep.” His eyes stung, and his lungs burned as the words suddenly started pouring out of him. “I can’t eat, I can’t think of anything but them. And I know what they did, what _he_ did, and I will always hate him for it, but…” a tear slid down his cheek, and he whispered, “it’s _so much noise_. And I hear the war all the time, I hear it raging in my head, that’s never shut off, but now, it’s like… there – there’s no filter anymore. It’s all just pouring through at once, and it just gets worse whenever someone touches me, and – and – and…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to do, Guerin.”

“You’re scared?” Michael stepped closer, and Alex was shocked to see that his own eyes were glistening. “You’re scared I’ll make it worse?”

Alex tried to move away, but the wall kept him in place. “You’re the only safe place I have, okay? If you touch me, and that noise comes back, I won’t be able to take it.”

“Comes back? So you don’t hear it now?”

Alex stilled. He blinked multiple times, then his brows furrowed. “No,” he croaked, his nerves strung, his bones aching, his heart just _tired_. “I don’t. How’d you – how’d you do that?”

“I told you,” the corner of his lips rose as he reached a hand to Alex. “You sounded weird on the phone.”

Alex inhaled sharply as Michael’s fingers touched his jaw, expecting his thoughts to be bombarded with his father and brother and the war, but instead, every tiny, nagging voice went quiet. When it became evident he wasn’t going to run away, Michael’s hand moved to cup his cheek, his thumb wiping away the tear that had fallen.

And Alex sighed deeply, his eyes fluttering shut as every bit of pain in his body melted away, his knees buckling with the exhaustion taking over all his other senses. Michael quickly caught him, his arm around Alex’s waist holding him close against his body, and as Alex’s fists against Michael’s chest caught the soft beating of his heart, he felt himself – not for the first time in weeks, but in _years_ – able to breathe.

“Guerin,” he whispered, their foreheads pressed together. “How?”

Alex felt Michael’s hot breath fan his lips as he exhaled, and he knew that their hearts had somehow aligned to the same beat. “You make it all go quiet. Guess I hoped it… worked the other way around. Shot in the dark, to be honest.”

Whether it was a sob or a chuckle that escaped Alex’s lips, he didn’t know, and he didn’t care. He brought his hands up to hold Michael’s face, keeping them close together. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

He shook his head, their noses nuzzling against one another, and he whispered, “Never.”


	7. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt from someone on tumblr which basically said, "The next piece of jewelry I put on you is going to be a wedding ring." I took some liberties with it.

“Have you seen my dog tags? I can’t leave without them,” Alex said, rummaging through the discarded clothes on the floor, the blanket pooled around his hips.

“No, I haven’t,” Michael said as his thumb ran over Alex’s engraved name on the dog tags. “Maybe they’re by the sink.”

He glanced up as Alex looked over his shoulder at him, tucking the necklace into his blanket. “Why would they be by the sink?”

Michael’s eyes ran over Alex’s features – his messy hair, the tips turned to gold by the sunlight peeking through the curtains, his rosy cheeks and lips, his long lashes, his eyes glistening as he blinked at Michael, and though Michael knew he should’ve told the truth then – it was his chance – he couldn’t bear Alex leaving now. He just wanted to keep him a little longer.

“I dunno. Want me to check?”

Alex stared, then, “You’d tell me if you found them, wouldn’t you?”

Michael pushed himself off the bed with a groan and stood, raking his fingers through Alex’s hair as he passed him. “You don’t trust me, Private?”

“You didn’t answer the question, Guerin,” he said, and Michael smiled as he pretended to check around the kitchen area.

“I know what those tags mean to you,” he said, “if I had them, I wouldn’t lie.”

There was a moment of silence, then Alex, sounding oddly amused, said, “That was beautiful. I might have actually bought it,” Michael turned with raised brows, but his face fell as Alex held his dog tags with a clever smile, “if I didn’t already know how much you love me.”

Michael’s shoulders slumped, and with a sigh, he said, “I forgot to hide the chain again, didn’t I?”

Alex laughed, and Michael’s heart ached. “You’re getting too easy to read, Guerin.”

“Oh, am I?” Michael came up to Alex, grabbed the tags from his hands and threw them out his trailer window.

“Wh – Guerin!”

“Nope, I don’t wanna hear it,” he bent down, held Alex’s waist from behind, and pulled him up onto the bed.

“There,” he huffed, tucking Alex in despite his protests.

“Guerin, seriously, my tags,” he sat up, but Michael set his hands on his shoulders, his voice soft.

“I tossed them onto my truck, they’re _safe_ , okay?” he kissed Alex’s forehead. “Okay?” He kissed Alex’s nose, then pecked his lips, then pressed a kiss to each of his eyes – until the airman burst into laughter.

He rested their foreheads together, exhaling deeply. “I love your laugh. I didn’t think I’d ever hear it.”

“Hey,” Alex pulled back enough to look into Michael’s eyes, his hands going from his chest to his jaw. “We’re together now. We don’t have to think about the past anymore.”

Michael pressed his lips together, his hand going down to Alex’s leg, behind his knee. He pulled his leg up, sliding his body against Alex’s. A perfect fit, every time. “I know,” he said. “I just hate it when you’re not here. That’s all.”

Alex’s thumb softly caressed Michael’s cheek, and he closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. He was fully aware of every part of Alex’s body that touched his. Alex’s chest, his cock, his thighs, his leg, his hands, his lips – Michael wanted more of it all. He wanted he and Alex to share a bed every night, to wake up together every morning, to have these hours where nothing mattered in the entirety of existence but each other.

“Kiss me,” Alex breathed, and Michael was only too happy to comply.

He took Alex’s lips in his, their kiss slow and sensual and just _lazy_. Michael wanted more of that, too. The lazy moments where they could pretend Alex didn’t have to leave for the night, didn’t have to work on top-secret military codes that kept him busy for days, sometimes _weeks_ at a time.

Michael tilted his head, deepening the kiss as his hand slid from Alex’s leg to his hair, tugging on the strands. Alex moaned into his mouth, and it spurred Michael on, reaching with his other hand down Alex’s chest.

He moved to kiss Alex’s neck, then his collarbone, and as he sucked the skin, Alex breathed, “I want to stay the night.”

Michael raised a brow, hoping he hadn’t misheard. He swallowed, rising to meet Alex’s eyes which shone brightly with the setting sun stretching across his face. “What about work?”

Alex shook his head, his eyes hazed. “Who cares?”

Michael probably, in that moment, should’ve insisted that Alex go, maybe even suggest to drive him, but there was nothing he wanted less. Alex wanted to stay, and Michael wanted more than anything to keep him.

“Any chance I could convince you to stay more than just the night?” he said jokingly, though the thought of Alex actually gone for days upset him in intimate ways he never thought possible.

Alex seemed to see through Michael’s internal conflict because his expression softened. He lightly pecked Michael’s lips. “I won’t be gone long.”

“Any second you’re not here is too long,” Michael said, wrapping his arm around Alex’s waist.

Alex smiled in that beautiful, gentle way he always did when the two were tired, hoping for nothing more than to have each other. “I love you,” he said, and Michael swallowed.

“I love you more,” he said, never surprised at the ease with which it left his lips. Those words that he struggled to say to even his own siblings who he loved beyond words, they just flowed out for Alex, because of course they did. Because it was Alex, and Alex was… “You’re everything to me, Private.”

Alex whispered his name, and pulled him down on top of him, kissing him slowly. That moment stretched on for hours – every touch soft and delicate, every kiss sensual and lazy, every thrust slow and deep until they both came with breathy moans and quiet pants.

As the moonlight shined through the gap in the curtains, turning the tips of Alex’s hair strands to silver, Michael watched with an unwavering gaze. He carefully pulled the blanket up, covering Alex’s shoulders.

Michael kissed his cheek softly, and with as much care as he could muster, slipped out of bed. He got to his feet, and looked over his shoulder at his boyfriend. When he was sure Alex wouldn’t wake up, he went outside where he’d thrown the tags, and pulled them off the roof of his truck. His fingers once again followed the engravings, and his heart sunk as he wondered – not for the first time – how it was that his Alex had become a soldier.

Michael stepped back into the trailer, and kneeled beside Alex on the floor.

“I don’t know why these mean so much to you, but…” he muttered, carefully placing the dog tags around Alex’s neck. He caught sight of Alex’s left hand, and he held it up, kissing each of his fingers. He climbed back into bed, lying down right against Alex, and as he did, Alex’s arm automatically came around his waist, keeping him close.

Michael smiled, and ran his hand down Alex’s arm, settling over Alex’s hand. “I wanna keep you forever, Alex,” he whispered into Alex’s hair, “so the next piece of jewelry I put on you,” he lightly tapped his ring finger, “goes here. Okay?”

Alex said nothing, but snuggled deeper into Michael’s chest, sighing deeply. Michael’s smile widened, his hold on Alex so tight that he couldn’t imagine how he would possibly be able to let him go in the morning.


	8. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex meet some point in his enlistment when he comes down to Roswell.

It was a dark and stormy night when Michael saw Alex again. Michael had seen the smoke rising in the distance, a sign of car trouble, long before he heard a knock at the door. He just never thought he would open it to Alex Manes on the other side, looking five years older than the last time he’d seen him, and a lot more agitated.

At the sight of Michael, Alex’s face fell, and his hand, which had been running through his windswept hair, fell to his side. For a moment, Michael thought he was imagining Alex, or that maybe he was dreaming, as he often did, that the Manes man had come back to him for good. But Alex blinked as if he himself wasn’t sure who he was staring at, and he said, “Guerin?”

Michael swallowed, reaching forward. Alex watched with curious eyes as Michael touched his shoulder and immediately pulled back, as if he’d just touched fire.

“You’re real,” he breathed. “Alex, you’re actually here.”

Alex huffed a chuckle, his brows furrowed. “I can’t believe this, it’s really you.”

“It’s really me,” Michael shook his head, not knowing what else to say. “Uh – thank you for your –”

“Please, don’t,” Alex held a hand up, “don’t thank me.” He smiled, though Michael noticed something similar to anger and discomfort flicker in his eyes.

He stared, then said, “So I was right then, wasn’t I? Your dad forced you to enlist?”

Alex looked startled, then shook his head. “Look, my car broke down,” he pointed at the tower of smoke, “just over there, and my phone’s dead. Would it be okay to use yours to call a tow truck?”

Michael had stayed glued to the doorframe, not trusting himself to move any closer to Alex. When he had touched his shoulder, he’d nearly abandoned all sense of personal space then for the favor of hugging the airman closely to his chest. But as Alex raised a brow at him, Michael realized he was waiting for an answer, and without thinking, he stepped outside, his eyes on him.

“You know, I’m actually kind of a mechanic, I could take a look at it for you, if you want?”

Alex blinked. “Uh – really? Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

Michael nodded, and they made their way to the car, Michael looking over his shoulder every so often, making sure Alex was still there. It was stupid, to think he would vanish so suddenly, but he was still trying to process having him there with him at all.

“So,” Michael cleared his throat, “Air Force, huh? I heard you’ve been rising in the ranks pretty quickly.”

“I’m smart,” was all Alex said.

“ _Air Force_ , though? Isn’t that what your dad’s doing?”

“You been following up on me, Guerin?” he said, avoiding Michael’s gaze.

“You really don’t like people talking about it, do you? Your job.”

“Not while I’m off duty,” Alex sighed, finally catching Michael’s eyes. “I’d rather not think about it.”

“Off duty,” Michael repeated. “So, what, they’ll be deploying you soon?”

“Sometime tomorrow,” he said, and Michael stopped.

“Seriously?”

Alex’s expression softened. “I got here yesterday, Guerin, I swear. I was never going to have a lot of time.”

Michael looked away. “Why do they want you back so soon?”

Alex smirked humorlessly, shrugging a shoulder. “I told you. I’m smart.”

“I didn’t know you were _that_ smart,” Michael said, then shut his eyes. “Damn, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, I know, it’s okay. I know I didn’t exactly look like a military captain in high school,” Alex chuckled, and Michael resisted the urge to step closer. It’d been _so long_ since he’d heard Alex laugh, and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the sound until right now. He must’ve been staring though, because Alex’s smile soon died down, and he cleared his throat. “So, you have a farm now?”

“No,” Michael said after a moment, continuing on to the car. “The owner needs someone to look after the place. He’s out of town a lot, so he lets me stay over while I work.”

“Do you, like, chop firewood shirtless and stuff?”

Michael smirked, looking over his shoulder. “You flirting with me, Private?”

Alex smiled softly, and Michael felt a warmth blooming in his chest. “I thought you’d gotten a full ride to UNM.”

Michael raised a brow. “I thought _you’d_ wanted to make music.”

He stared, then nodded. “Fair enough.”

When they got close enough to the car, Michael held an arm out, keeping Alex at a distance. “Careful,” he said, “that smoke looks like it’ll burn your lungs.”

“Guerin, I think I’ll be fine,” he said, amused, and before Michael could stop him, Alex pushed past his arm and opened the car hood. He hurried forward to help as more smoke rose out, but Alex had had the lower half of his face covered with his arm, his eyes narrowed, and Michael realized that the airman really hadn’t needed his help. He felt guilty for being upset about that.

He snapped out of his thoughts when Alex called his name, and he came to his side, fanning the smoke out of their faces, at the same time using his powers.

“Strong arm,” Alex said with surprise when the smoke before them suddenly cleared, and Michael shrugged.

“I work out a lot,” he said, and tried to ignore the blush in his cheeks as his eyes caught Alex’s. He leaned down, examining the engine, and as he had suspected, Alex’s problem had a simple solution.

“Is it serious?” Alex asked, his arms crossed. “I want to make it back before the storm hits.”

Michael looked up at the sky, surprised at himself for having nearly forgotten the dark clouds. He was about to reassure Alex that there was no problem at all, that all he had to do was refill his radiator, and he would be good to go. But as he opened his mouth, he found that the words refused to leave his throat. He swallowed. _What’s wrong with me?_

But he knew. The truth was, if Alex managed to get his car working, he would leave, and Michael had no idea when and _if_ he would ever see him again after that. He tapped his fingers against the car a moment, deliberating what to say when he looked up and caught Alex’s expectant gaze.

Before he could help it, Michael said, “Sorry, Private, looks like this job’s gonna take a lot of time, and there are a few things you’ll need replaced, which means a lot of money, too.”

Alex’s shoulders slumped, his face fallen, and Guerin almost felt bad until the airman said, “I’m leaving soon, I can’t waste my time dealing with this.”

“Well, hey,” Michael said, pretending to survey the car again, poking and prodding the engine for effect, “I think I might have exactly what you need in my truck. I could give them to you, if you want.”

Alex blinked. “But… if the parts are so expensive –”

“No, I said having them all replaced at an auto-shop would be expensive. _I_ would do it for free.”

“Why would you do that?”

 _Because I want you to stay with me longer_ , he thought. _Because I still can’t believe you’re here, and I need more time with you. Because I’m terrified that if you leave now, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering where you are and what had happened to you._

But he refrained. Alex had spoken warily, watching Michael carefully as if expecting him to suddenly pull out a gun and start firing at him. Michael couldn’t help but think of that one instance in the tool shed, when it had been Michael wary of Alex’s kindness. Alex had seemed so sure that people could be good then, and while Michael himself never believed it, the fact that Alex did had always been a comfort to him.

Part of him wanted to take Alex’s arms, his grip tight, and ask what Jesse had done to him, but the other part, the one that had lived through too much and been broken down too many times, said, “Call it payment for that guitar.”

Alex’s frown deepened, glancing at Michael’s left hand. “I think you’ve paid enough for that.”

Michael moved his hand behind his hip, hiding it from Alex’s view. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Alex blinked at Michael as if he’d just realized something, and he tilted his head. “You’re a miserable liar.”

“Alex, I can fix your car,” he said instead, hoping that Alex would at least accept the truth in that, “but it’s gonna take some time, and there’s a storm starting soon, so whatever your decision is, better make it quick.”

As if on cue, the sky thundered loudly. Michael and Alex barely had time to look up before fat drops of rain hit the earth, and Michael was leading Alex back inside. The storm strengthened very quickly, and by the time Michael had closed the farmhouse door behind him, they were both soaked, the rain hitting the porch loudly outside.

Michael tossed off his shoes and was about to offer to light the fireplace when his eyes caught Alex, and he faltered. The airman had gained muscle, his soaked _Air Force_ shirt revealing the outline of his chest, his abs, his sex line, and Michael nearly took a step towards him. He hadn’t felt such a strong desire to touch someone since he was a teenager, when Alex had first attempted to kiss him. He wanted more than anything now to kiss Alex again, to run his hands up his shirt, and feel _every inch_ of his skin.

“Guerin?” Alex suddenly said, and Michael was yanked out of his thoughts.

“Hm?”

Michael had a feeling Alex could read his mind because he suddenly looked away blushing. “Uh,” he cleared his throat, “I-I was just asking where the bathroom was. To dry off.”

“Right, yeah,” he pointed to a corridor and said, “down that hall, last door on the right.” Alex nodded, and as he passed, Michael blurted. “Just start taking your clothes off.”

Alex stopped, his brows furrowed. When Michael – too late – realized how the words had come out, he stammered, “I-I mean, I’m – I’m gonna, you know, get you something dry to wear.”

The airman said nothing as he pursed his lips awkwardly and left the room. As soon as Michael heard the bathroom door close, his eyes fell shut and he silently cursed himself. “Start taking your clothes off…” he muttered, shaking his head.

He hurried to his truck outside, grabbed some of his own clothes, sniffing them to make sure they were clean, and came back inside with the thought of Alex in his shirt, his pants – Alex _smelling_ like him. He came to wait outside the bathroom door, careful not to make a sound, and he tried to remember what Alex smelled like. He leaned against the wall beside the door, his eyes falling shut, his cold, damp shirt sticking to his skin doing nothing to cool his heated thoughts.

_Five years ago._ It seemed like a lifetime and no time at all since Michael last touched Alex, last held him close. Michael still remembered the feeling of Alex’s hot skin beneath his fingertips, his muscles compliant to Michael’s touch. He remembered the way Alex writhed and moaned underneath him, the way he giggled when Michael nuzzled against his neck, the way he’d smelled of… of…

Michael’s eyes opened. He couldn’t remember, and he knew that once Alex left, he wouldn’t have the chance to.

“Alex,” he said before he could help himself.

The shuffling inside the bathroom stopped, and Alex said, “Yeah?”

“You asked me if I was keeping tabs on you,” he swallowed. “I was.”

There was a moment of silence, then, “I know, Guerin.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Any idea where you’ll be going?”

“Not yet.”

Michael rested his forehead on the door. “You scared?”

A pause. “Not anymore,” he said, as if it was supposed to be a kind of comfort to Michael. _Don’t worry_ , he could almost hear him say. _My entire life’s been a war. I’ve gone numb to it all._

Michael’s hand tightened to a fist against the door. He didn’t want Alex to be numb. He didn’t want him to leave with the same nothing in his chest that he’d come with. He didn’t want him to leave at all.

“Kiss me,” he said, and after a moment, Alex opened the door, confused. He was wearing only his jeans, his chest bare, and as Michael raked his entire body, he found he felt no remorse at his words, no embarrassment – only the desire to whisper them again into Alex’s ear.

“Guerin, did you just –”

“You heard me, Private,” he closed the distance between then, holding Alex’s face in his hands. “Kiss me.”

Before Alex could say anything, Michael took his lips in his. Alex made a startled noise in the back of his throat, but soon relaxed into Michael’s hold. His arms came around the cowboy’s waist, bringing their bodies flush against one another.

Michael pushed them back, one hand coming around Alex’s head to protect him as they hit the wall. “Guerin,” Alex whispered before Michael was devouring his mouth again, reveling in the moans that escaped Alex’s lips.

“Alex,” he breathed as their foreheads rested together, and Michael stepped back just enough to take his own shirt off. Alex’s eyes turned dark as he ran his hands down Michael’s chest.

“You’ve gotten hairy,” he said, his voice deep and hoarse. Michael bit his lower lip as he leaned even closer to Alex, bringing the airman’s hands lower. He took Alex’s lower lip in his teeth, moaning breathily as Alex’s fingers scratched past his stomach, digging into his bellybutton, following the trail of hair down, down, _down_ until they stopped at Michael’s belt.

Michael couldn’t take it. He grinded into Alex, their clothed cocks rubbing against one another as Michael pushed his tongue into Alex’s mouth, kissing him hungrily. Alex’s hands came up to his jaw, holding their heads together, while Michael’s hands moved to Alex’s lower back as he slammed his hips into his.

They moaned into each other’s mouths, and Michael stepped back, their lips making a beautifully wet sound as they separated. He pulled Alex with him out of the bathroom, into the living room, and before Alex could say his name, Michael pushed the airman down on the couch and climbed over him, kissing up his stomach and chest.

_Maple syrup and wood_ , Michael thought as he came up to Alex’s neck, inhaling his scent. That was what Alex smelled like. His hold on Alex’s waist tightened. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten.

“Alex,” he breathed as he slowly grinded into the airman, pressing a kiss to his ear, then his cheek, then the corner of his lips. Alex raked his fingers through Michael’s curls, fitting their mouths together, wet and passionate and _desperate_. Desperate to touch each other, to hold each other, to mark each other so deeply that when they did have to separate, they would still feel each other after.

Michael tried not to think of that moment, of Alex leaving his side, and he grinded down harder, their kisses open-mouthed as they groaned and panted. Eventually, Michael had enough strength to stop kissing Alex and work on removing his pants, Alex unbuckling his own.

When Michael pushed himself into Alex, the two breathed heavily, their foreheads remained pressed together, their hold on each other tight and bruising. Michael’s thrusts were rough and quick, then they were slow and sensual, then they were desperate and pleading. He tried to save every moment to his memory – the way their sweaty bodies slid perfectly against one another, the way he fit against Alex’s hips, the sting of Alex’s nails as they scratched lines down his back, the sheer _pleasure_ that came with every thrust, every touch, every kiss.

The sky had gone pitch black outside on account of the storm, the rain still pouring down heavily as they lay together, Alex curled against Michael’s chest, Michael’s arm around Alex, keeping him warm and _close_.

His other hand lightly brushed Alex’s hair from his forehead. “Your hair’s gotten longer.”

Alex closed his eyes, leaning into Michael’s touch with a sigh. “Yeah, I was ordered to get it cut as soon as possible, but I keep putting it off.”

Michael’s smile turned small. “I don’t like anybody ordering you to do anything.”

Alex opened his eyes, and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Michael’s lips. “I’m okay, Guerin. Really.” He swallowed, seemingly hesitant before he said, “I should be asking if _you’re_ okay.”

“What do you mean?” he brushed his thumb against Alex’s jaw, and Alex’s expression softened as he took Michael’s hand in his – the hand that his own father had maimed, the hand that Michael – though he couldn’t tell Alex – could’ve had healed at any time, but chose to keep disfigured.

“Alex –”

“You don’t have to pretend that you’re okay with what happened,” Alex said. “I know you’re not.” He shook his head, and Michael felt Alex’s hold on his hand tighten slightly. “I’ve seen people fight, and I’ve seen them come back broken, parts of them missing. I’m not scared to die, Guerin. I… I’ve come close, and I’ve felt… _nothing_ –”

“Don’t talk like that –”

“—It’s the truth,” Alex said, and something in Michael shattered because he _knew_ , right then, that Alex meant it. “But I am scared that I’ll come back… different.” Alex huffed, his brows furrowed, “That’s a dumb thing to be afraid of. Everyone changes.”

Michael inhaled a shaky breath, taking Alex’s face in his hands. “Don’t go back, Alex. Stay here, stay with me.”

“Guerin, I can’t –”

“I’ll figure things out. I’ll get another job, I’ll make enough money to take care of us both. I’ll keep you safe.”

Alex’s brows furrowed, his eyes glistening even in the dark, though an amused smile played at his lips, as if he just realized something. “My car’s fine, isn’t it?”

Michael swallowed. “Gallon of water in your radiator, and you’re good to go.” He moved them so that he was hovering over Alex, his leg thrown over both of Alex’s, keeping him in place. “ _Don’t_ go.”

Alex searched his face, then tilted his head up, catching Michael’s lips in his. “Please, Guerin, please, just…” he breathed, bringing Michael’s hand to his chest, “just touch me.”

Michael stared, Alex’s heart racing against his fingertips, though whether that was because of lust or fear or something else, Michael didn’t know. Still, just as when they were younger, Michael found it impossible to resist him. So he did as he was asked. He kissed him, held him, allowing himself to be swept away in Alex’s touch, his scent, his lips.

Before he left the next morning, after an early phone call in which he responded in a way Michael never thought he would hear Alex Manes, the punk kid with the guitar, speak, Michael refused to see him. He turned around on the couch, his back to Alex as the airman got dressed in his own clothes, now dried, the sun shining through the windows. Alex had tried touching Michael’s shoulder, to get him to turn around, to _look_ at him, but Michael couldn’t. Not this time.

His heart sunk in his chest as he heard the door shut behind him, and when he heard Alex’s car drive by, he felt himself about to be sick. He gasped, jumping off the couch, and ran outside, calling Alex’s name, begging him to come back. He had been wrong, he wanted to see him, to tell him how he felt, to tell him that he’d stay in Roswell, that he’d wait for him… but when he got outside, Alex’s car was out of sight, and he was too late.


	9. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael tries to get Alex to talk to Maria again, but Alex isn't taking it.

Alex had just loaded his third cardboard box into his car when a familiar truck pulled into his driveway. Alex lightly hit his right leg as Michael parked and climbed out, and he sighed, heading back into his cabin without so much as a word to the cowboy.

Michael watched as Alex brought another box out, his brows furrowing. “What’re you doing?”

“Packing,” Alex said, and after putting the box inside, he leaned against the car. “Did you want something?”

“Uh,” Michael stared at the boxes, then said, “I – uh – just wanted to check on you, you know, we never really got to talk after…”

Alex raised a brow. “After you left me waiting outside your trailer while you went to make out with my…” he shook his head, “Maria? No, I guess we didn’t, but,” he shrugged, “somehow, I’ve survived.”

“Alex –”

“That was two months ago,” Alex sniffed. “Where’ve you been? Busy?”

Michael pursed his lips and looked like he was debating something. In the end, his expression turned unreadable, and Alex saw the answer coming before it even left Michael’s lips.

“Kinda.”

Alex waited for an explanation, anything to tell him that Michael thought he was worth telling, that Michael couldn’t help but tell him, but he knew he was waiting in vain. Michael never told him anything.

“Let me guess,” he said, already turning back to the cabin, “I don’t need to know.” He heard Michael follow him inside. “Why’re you really here, Guerin?”

“I talked to… Maria,” Michael trailed off, and Alex turned to him with a raised brow to see him eying Alex’s cabin, all the boxes, the couches covered with white sheets, everything either packed away or protected from dust. “She – uh – she’s been really upset. Told me you guys weren’t talking, and she… she misses you.”

Michael looked to Alex as if he couldn’t help but agree, and it made Alex sick.

He swallowed, smirking humorlessly as he said, “And you came to settle things for her. What a sweet boyfriend.”

Michael stared. “You really can’t stand me right now, can you?”

“No,” Alex said. “I really can’t.”

And he bent down to pick up another box, ignoring the pain in his leg. He couldn’t remember the last time he had sat down. He could feel Michael watching him.

“You moving closer to town?”

“Nope,” Alex said. “I’m leaving Roswell.”

Michael frowned. “What?”

“I said I’m leaving Roswell,” he said. “I have a flight tomorrow morning to New York.”

“ _New York_? For what?”

“They’ve been offering me a job since my enlistment ended,” Alex said. “I took it.”

“Well,” Michael looked a little lost, “when’re you coming back?”

Alex sighed. “I’m not.”

“What?” Michael said, blocking his path to the door. “Alex, wait – seriously? You’re just leaving?”

Alex settled the box on the couch with a huff, his arms aching. He leaned on it a moment, silent, then shook his head and said, “I’ve always hated this town. I hate the narrowminded people, and their pathetic insults. I hate how everywhere I look, I see _his_ face, telling me that I’m just like him.” He lifted the box, avoiding Michael’s eyes. “I need to get out of here.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” he exclaimed, looking semi-panicked as he took the box from Alex’s hands and set it on the ground. “This is – I mean, this is a joke, right? You’re not actually leaving.”

Alex sighed. “Yes, Guerin, I actually am.”

“What – What about Maria? And Liz? I know you’re upset with them, Alex, but they’re your family.”

“Why does _my_ family always have to be screwed up?” he snapped. “Huh? Why can’t _I_ have somebody like – like Max, or – or Isobel? Someone who’d rather die than hurt me?” He huffed a miserable chuckle. “For the love of – _Kyle_ has been more family to me than Maria and Liz combined.”

Michael’s frowned deepened, and he shook his head. “You don’t mean that. Alex, come on, I know you’re upset with Maria right now, but –”

“No,” Alex cut him off, “you really _don’t_ know, Guerin. You know, for the longest time, I thought a kind, caring family – the kind you read about – was just something meant for other people. Not me. And then I got Liz and Maria, and I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe the universe wasn’t punishing me for being a Manes, because _at least_ I had them.” He released a shaky breath. “Then they decided that my heart just,” he shrugged, “wasn’t that important. And _Maria_ …”

“Alex…”

Alex sighed, rubbing his face. “I’m _tired_ of coming in last. I want someone who puts me first. Damn it, after everything, I think I’ve earned it, and I’m tired of being made to feel like I don’t.”

Michael said nothing, and Alex, knowing he wouldn’t, bent down to get his box. Michael stopped him, holding his arms. “Wait, okay, just – just, listen to me. I’ll end it, okay? I’ll end it, just _stay_ , Alex, please don’t – don’t leave me here.”

Alex moved out of Michael’s hold. _Man_ , he was exhausted. “Get out of my way.”

“You’ve hurt me before,” he said, stepping closer, taking Alex’s face in his hands, his grip tight. “You’ve walked away from me, you’ve broken my heart.”

“Well then,” Alex whispered, refusing to let the tears gathering in his eyes fall, “at least you’ve gotten even.”

“No, I,” he shook his head, resting his forehead against Alex’s, “I didn’t – I didn’t want to get even, that’s not what I… I was just trying to –”

“To guilt me into listening to you?” Alex asked. “What? What were you trying to do?”

“Alex,” Michael breathed, his brows furrowed, as if he couldn’t understand how Alex could talk to him this way. “When I said I was going to leave, you said you didn’t want me to. I’m asking you not to leave now, _please_. Look, we’ll work it out, okay? I’ll fix this.”

“There is no fixing this, Guerin,” he said, trying to move, but Michael stepped closer, his grip tightening. “Let go of me!”

“I love you,” he said. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you? I _love_ you, Alex!”

“I know that!” Alex said, finally managing to push him away. “And you went to Maria anyway.”

Michael’s arms fell to his side, and by the look on his face, Alex knew he had no defense, nothing to say for himself or Maria, nothing that Alex wanted to hear.

Alex picked up his box, and said, “Get off my property, Guerin, before I call the sheriff.”

Without another word from either of them, Alex walked out, hoping – for the first time – that when he came back, Michael would be gone.


	10. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex and wedding preparations.

“Am I crazy?” Alex suddenly asked, setting a stack of magazines on the bar with a hard _THUMP_.

Michael looked at him startled, quickly pulling his bottle of beer out of the way before it got pushed over. “Why are you crazy?”

“No,” Alex huffed, “I’m not saying I am, I’m _asking_ if you think I’m crazy because, see, I always thought that getting married was about being eternally bound to the person you love.”

Michael’s brows furrowed, though the corners of his lips perked upward. “Isn’t it?”

“Apparently not. Both Isobel and Maria agree that it’s about,” he gestured to the magazines that had tipped over, stretching across the bar in front of them, “ _that_. Wedding attire and venues and flower arrangements and menu plans and…” he groaned, his head falling onto the table.

Michael rubbed his back soothingly. “I can’t wait to see what _their_ wedding looks like.”

“I dared mention City Hall.”

He raised a brow. “Hence the crazy?”

Alex nodded. “Hence the crazy.” He sat up. “Am I? I just want to marry you, is it dumb that I don’t care how?”

Michael’s smile widened, and he brought his hand around Alex’s head, pulling him in to kiss his cheek. His forehead rested against Alex’s temple, and he said, “Maybe we’re both crazy then.”

Alex smiled, then pulled back, his brow raised. “You don’t seem half as stressed with this as I do.”

Michael scoffed. “You kidding? You said yes, we’re getting married. Fricking _Valenti_ couldn’t piss me off now.”

“Oh, not even him, huh?” Alex laughed. It quickly died down to a hum as he brought his hand up to hold Michael’s jaw, and he pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I have a fiancé. I feel so grown up.”

Michael’s eyes were closed as he tilted his head, attempting to catch Alex’s lips again, and he smirked, dragging his hand down Alex’s back. “You know, if you want, we can skip to the wedding night.”

“Romantic,” Alex said, his body leaning in to Michael’s touch. His lips neared Michael’s, and he immediately pulled back with a gasp. “Stop,” he said, pushing Michael away, his cheeks red. “Stop it.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m not making out with you in the middle of a bar.”

“Wh – _Alex_ –”

“No, it always escalates, Guerin.” Michael’s fingers dug into Alex’s back and he laughed, slapping the cowboy’s arm away. “I’m serious, don’t touch me. Not until the wedding.”

Michael narrowed his eyes, smiling uncertainly until he realized that Alex wasn’t kidding, and his face fell. “That’s a joke, right? Tell me that’s a joke!”

“It’s only a week away!”

“ _Only_ a week, he says,” Michael said incredulously, and took a big gulp of his drink, unable to stop until the bottle was snatched away from him. He looked to see Alex finishing it, and his shoulders slumped. “You’re so lucky I love you, you have no idea.”

“I have some idea,” he said, leaning in enough to barely peck Michael’s lips, pulling back quickly before Michael could hold him close. “Vows.”

Michael raised a brow. “What?”

Alex sighed, slumping in his chair, watching Michael expectantly. “There are fourteen types of forks.”

Michael blinked. “Does that matter?”

Alex scoffed. “Don’t repeat that question in front of Isobel. But that’s how my day went. I got to hear about every detail of what constitutes a _perfect_ wedding, down to the folded napkins. And in all of it, I have to admit, one thing seemed appealing.”

“The vows,” he gathered.

Alex’s smile softened, and he looked at his lap where, Michael noticed fondly, he was playing with his fingers. “I know it sounds really stupid, but… I don’t know, I didn’t have anyone growing up who told me that – that they loved me. There was never anyone who I could trust would do anything to protect me. Until you. And I guess I just, I don’t know, got excited to hear it.” He glanced at Michael, and huffed a chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Never mind, ignore that, I’m not – it’s been a long day, and –”

“I’d die for you, Alex,” Michael said, and Alex blinked, his smile turned small. “You don’t need vows to know that, I’ll tell you whenever you want.”

“Guerin…”

“Because, I promise you, if Isobel and Maria ever decide on the right silverware, and we actually do get married, there are three things that I am most definitely _not_ going to say in front of our friends and family. The first is that I’ll love you till the day I die. The second is that you’re walking sex, and it takes everything I have to keep myself from slamming into you every time I see you, _but_ since we’re getting married, there’s no reason to hold back anymore.”

“Well, public decency’s actually a thing, Guerin, so technically –”

“—And the _third_ ,” he leaned forward, ignoring Alex’s input, “is that I would, without question, trade my life for yours,” he covered Alex’s hand with his own, and shrugged a shoulder, “because you’re Alex, and you’ve always meant more to me than anyone in the universe could. Even more than me.”

Alex looked at Michael, not with shock, but with a fondness that Michael didn’t think he’d ever get used to, a fondness that he – though he would never admit it to Alex – was looking forward to seeing more than anything else.

“So,” he sighed, sitting back, though his hand stayed with Alex, “there are your _not_ -vows, because I don’t need some old cliché wedding rule telling me when and how to tell you my feelings for you. Those are _our_ moments, they’re private, and they’re just – they’re _ours_ , Alex, so don’t limit me with a vow.”

Michael didn’t look at Alex after that, he didn’t think he could without revealing the heavy blush on his cheeks, and while he may have expected a chuckle or a soft kiss, he definitely hadn’t expected Alex’s next words.

“Don’t,” he said softly, and Michael looked to him with a frown.

“Don’t?”

Alex moved close enough to him to whisper. “Don’t say you’d give up your life.”

“I would –”

“It scares me, Guerin,” he said, both hands holding Michael’s.

He stared, then nodded, “Then what do you want me to say?”

The corner of Alex’s lips rose as he searched Michael’s face, his hold on Michael’s hand tightening. “Say you’ll fight, and that no matter what, you’ll live for me.”

Michael swallowed. “I’ll fight, and no matter what, I’ll live for you.”

Alex leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Michael’s. “Say you’ll stand by me, whatever happens.”

“I’ll stand by you, whatever happens.”

“Say you love me,” he breathed, and Michael’s eyes fluttered shut.

“I love you.”

There was a moment of silence, then Alex moved back. Michael opened his eyes to see him looking toward the back of the bar, hesitant. Before he could ask what was wrong, Alex looked to him, biting his lower lip, his eyes dark, “Now say you’ll follow me to the bathroom because I want to kiss you more than I want to _breathe_ , and screw waiting the week.”

Michael got to his feet, exhaling shakily, “Hell _yeah_ , baby.”


	11. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds out Alex was beaten by Jesse the night Michael and Alex slept together.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Michael said, and Alex sighed, his arms crossed.

“No,” he said, exhaustion evident on his face, “the only one that shouldn’t be here is me.”

“Then why are you?”

“Look, Max asked me to come, so I came. After what he did to save Rosa, I owe him something.”

Michael tried not to show his disappointment. The truth was, he knew very well why Alex was there. He still remembered the look in Max’s eyes as he made Michael swear that, if he could get Alex to come, he would let Kyle have a look at his sprained wrist. Michael had no idea what Max had said to get Alex to agree, but he was a little more than grateful to have some time with the airman after everything that had happened with Maria, even if that meant he had to share that time with the one guy in Roswell he truly couldn’t stand having around.

“You know, if you’re miserable being here,” he said, holding his right hand against his chest tightly, “you can leave. I don’t really need you, so…”

Alex’s arms fell limp to his side. “Alright then, fine, I’m leaving.”

Michael, in a panic, grabbed his sleeve, wincing at the pain that shot through his entire arm. “Wait, Alex, don’t…” Alex stopped, and looked at Michael. The cowboy swallowed, bringing his hand back to his chest. He’d never seen Alex look annoyed with him. “I – I was just joking, I’m sorry, it was – I was kidding.”

Alex looked away, shaking his head. “You know what? Serves you right. You’re always getting yourself into these stupid barfights, you were bound to break a bone at some point. You’re just lucky that this time, it was nothing but a sprain.

Michael stared. “You’re really upset about this, aren’t you? If I’d known me getting hurt would bother you so much, I would’ve used my powers.”

“Why didn’t you?” he snapped, and Michael tried not to smile. As angry as Alex was at him, he always seemed to care more. Michael hoped that never stopped. “You could’ve blocked that asshole – everyone was drunk, they wouldn’t have noticed, but no, you just stand there and take it.” He huffed. “Since when does Michael Guerin just stand there and take it?”

Michael watched as Alex crossed his arms, leaning against a white wall as they waited for Kyle to finish with his patients. He hadn’t seen the airman at all lately, and had no idea how much he’d missed the sight of him until right now. He missed Alex’s soft hair, his lips, his eyes, his touch. If the pain in his wrist hadn’t been shooting up and down his arm, he would’ve stepped closer, put his hand to Alex’s jaw, kissed him until the both of them forgot that they weren’t supposed to be kissing.

But Alex was distant and cold, his stance a warning that he would not take kindly to Michael’s touch, not after what he’d done.

“Did you consider that maybe it was because I _wanted_ to get hurt?” he said before he could help himself.

Alex frowned. “What?”

“You’re right, I could’ve stopped him, but I didn’t want to.”

“What’re you talking about? Why not?”

Michael scoffed. _Wasn’t it obvious?_ “Alex, you won’t even _look_ at me anymore! You don’t answer my calls, you don’t come by the Airstream, you pass me like we’re complete strangers – all I wanna do is talk to you, and you won’t even listen to me!” He tightened his hold on his wrist, trying to convince himself that it was the cause of the pain spreading to his chest. “So, yeah, if ending up in a hospital is the only way to get you close, then I’ll let every bastard in Roswell take a shot at me.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “You’re insane. What do you think getting beat up is going to accomplish? We’ve tried talking, Guerin, it doesn’t work.”

“ _You_ walked out the last time, Alex,” he said, “not me. You’re the one who left after you saw my ship – you freaked out, and you left me!”

“Is that what you think?” he whispered, his eyes wide with horror. “You _dumbass_ , you think I left because I was freaked out about your ship?”

“Then what was it, huh? What were you so afraid of?” Michael looked around to make sure no one was listening in, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I know when you’re scared, Alex, and you were _scared_ that day, more than I’d ever seen you. So if it wasn’t the ship, then what scared you?”

“I didn’t want you to leave!” Alex snapped, and Michael went silent. “You were talking about assembling that stupid thing and going into space, and I was _terrified_ because I didn’t want you to go anywhere!”

“I…” barely escaped Michael’s lips as Alex’s eyes filled with tears, and he stumbled back.

“And I _told_ you, I said we’d talk later, I said I needed time to process, and I _came back_!” He huffed, wiping his eyes with an angry hand. “Damn it, Guerin, I – I came back, why didn’t _you_?” He shook his head. “And _why_ did you have to go to her?”

Michael stared back at Alex, unable to do anything more. He wanted to tell Alex that what he felt for him was stronger than anything he’d ever felt for anyone else, that _he_ was the only one he wanted to be with, that every second they spent apart was torture, and he just wanted to be with Alex, no matter what that came with.

But as soon as he opened his mouth –

“Alex Manes?” they looked up and saw an older man in a doctor’s coat approach them.

“Dr. Reynolds,” Alex blinked, wiping his face before he shook the man’s hand. “Hi, it’s – uh – it’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you, good to see you,” he smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he took Alex in, and Michael thought he looked like a proud grandfather, the way he held Alex’s hand in both of his, his touch firm and strong. His brows furrowed slightly and his smile turned small and wary as he leaned in, his voice quieting as he asked, “Not hurt again, are you?”

Michael frowned, looking to Alex for an explanation as to why the doctor wanted to treat his injuries as a secret, but Alex only pressed his lips together.

“No, actually,” Alex gestured to Michael who nodded once in greeting to the doctor, “it’s my…” he cleared his throat, “Guerin. He sprained his wrist, but uh – Kyle Valenti’s already supposed to look at it, so don’t worry.”

“Ah, Valenti, of course,” the doctor nodded. “Good man, he is.”

Alex nodded in agreement, and turned to Michael, avoiding his gaze as he said, “Guerin, this is Dr. Stanley Reynolds. He’s been looking after me since I was a teenager.”

“That I have,” the doctor said, looking to Michael with a flash of anger in his eyes. “The state this boy would come to me in – unbelievable! I heard about what happened to that old man of yours, and believe me, that’s the universe working.”

Alex huffed a chuckle, and Michael noticed that he looked neither afraid nor uncomfortable. His shoulders weren’t stiff, his breathing didn’t quicken, his hands didn’t shake. He seemed to feel nothing. Michael stared. How long had it been since Alex had looked so… _numb_?

“He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

The doctor scowled. “The things that man has gotten away with…”

_You have no idea_ , Michael scoffed, and the doctor tilted his head at Alex.

“Say, whatever happened to that boy you were so concerned about? I sure hope he’s alright.”

Michael frowned. “What boy?”

“Uh – actually, Dr. Reynolds,” Alex tried, but the older man was already getting fired up.

“Oh, I remember it like it was yesterday! Of course, I can’t discuss Alex’s case with you, son – confidentiality, I’m sure you understand – but I distinctly remember he was crying about a boy who’d had his hand smashed in with a hammer. Terrible case, really scary stuff.”

Michael flinched, the memory a stab to his heart. “A hammer?”

He nodded. “See, I remember because Alex had never shed a tear before, which, if you had seen the times he’d come in here – but, again, I can’t discuss that. Still, it broke my heart to see my tough nut crack. Of course,” he clasped Alex’s shoulder, “I understand completely. We all have our Achilles heel, don’t we? The little chink in the armor. Can’t dismay though, can’t dismay. That’s the part that keeps us human, you know.” He heaved a sigh. “Dear, I hope that boy came out alright.

“He’s fine,” Michael said thoughtlessly, his voice barely over a whisper, his attention on Alex. “He came out fine.”

Alex finally looked at him, his eyes barren and unattached. Just as Michael took a step closer to the airman –

“Well, better go,” the doctor suddenly said, and slapped Michael’s back as he passed. “Patients to tend to, medication to administer, surgeries to be made – call me if you need anything, Alex!”

Alex barely nodded once before the man was gone.

There was a moment of silence, and Michael came close enough that his chest was nearly against Alex’s shoulder. “Alex,” he breathed. “What was he talking about?”

Alex shook his head. “You know I hated what my dad did to you, why are you so surprised to know I cried about it?”

“ _Alex_ , that’s not –”

“I see Kyle,” he said, cutting Michael off, his eyes catching Kyle at the end of the hall. “Come on.”

Michael watched him leave, following a moment later. He kept his eyes on Alex for the rest of the time, even as Kyle greeted them, as he had Michael take an x-ray, as he awkwardly asked why Max couldn’t just heal Michael’s wrist, and Alex reminded him, with an effort to avoid Michael’s eyes, that Max was still recovering from having saved Rosa.

Michael had thought the visit would irritate him, his entire focus on Kyle – the way he would glance at Alex, the way he’d smile at Alex, the way he’d almost pretend Michael was a stranger in favor of talking to Alex. But Michael saw no one but the airman, and as soon as Kyle had left for some medication and bandages, Michael stood, crossed the room, and took the chair next to Alex’s.

“You know I wasn’t asking about me,” he said. “That doctor talked like you were… like Jesse had…”

Alex sighed, and finally looked at him, his jaw tight. “Let’s not discuss this, okay?”

“You said you wanted to talk,” Michael said. “So talk. What happened that day in the toolshed, after I was kicked out?”

Alex held his gaze, and Michael saw something flicker in his eyes. It didn’t take him long to realize the airman was miserable, and he didn’t know whether to be upset or relieved.

“He held me down,” Alex slowly said, as if the words burned his tongue, “and that hammer he used on you, he used again on me. Broke every single one of my ribs, and punctured my lungs.” He looked away. “I almost died.”

“Alex…”

Alex shook his head. “There was no permanent damage, they wouldn’t have let me into the military if there had been, but that’s when I realized that there was _nothing_ my dad wouldn’t do to get me to obey him. After that, it was either staying with him, or enlisting. I made my choice.”

He clenched his jaw, wiping something off his cheek so quickly that Michael barely had time to make out what it was. “I stayed alive by following orders. Pathetic way to live, I know.” He sniffed, rubbing a hand over his face before he crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. “Whatever. I got used to it.”

Michael stared, and after a short moment, was surprised to feel a tear slide down his cheek. He wiped it away, looking at his wet fingers with furrowed brows.

He let his hand fall and asked, “What happened to us?”

Alex smirked. “I assume you’re looking for a more poetic answer than _We broke_?” he glanced at Michael, and did a doubletake, any humor, no matter how bitter, gone. “Hey, Guerin, don’t…” he sat up straighter, his hand going to Michael’s cheek, his thumb wiping away another tear that had fallen. “Come on, stop, it’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” he repeated, shaking his head, moving himself from Alex’s hold. He didn’t deserve the airman’s touch. “I abandoned you. You kept coming back to me, and I turned my back on you. No wonder you hate me.”

Alex frowned. “I don’t hate you, Guerin. I couldn’t.”

“Alex, I… I don’t know how to fix this.”

 _I don’t know how to fix_ you _, fix what your father’s done, turn back time and bring the old you back. I don’t think it’s possible to undo all that damage._

Alex searched Michael’s face, his gaze softening as he slumped slightly against his chair, a small, sad smile at his lips. “Me neither.”


	12. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael thinks Alex had gotten drunk and drove in his misery over losing him. (Spoiler; that isn't what happened.)

Alcohol. That was the first thing Alex registered as he opened his car door. His brows furrowed, his frown deepening as he leaned in, taking a whiff to make sure it was coming from inside the vehicle, and he moved back, covering his nose. It smelled like the seats had been doused with whiskey. Alex looked around the parking lot, half-expecting to find a huddled group of drunk men against a truck.

When he saw no one, he sighed, ducking his head. _Homophobic dicks_ , he thought as he closed his eyes, his hands tightening to fists. This town was full of them. He couldn’t even go to a bar without someone finding out about his sexuality, and punishing him for it.

He huffed, glad he hadn’t been able to take a single drink. He really didn’t want to leave his car here overnight for someone else to vandalize.

He pressed his lips together, inhaled a deep breath of fresh air, and forced himself onto the soaked seat, exhaling sharply when he felt the alcohol seep into his clothes. As he closed the car door and opened the window, he silently hoped he wouldn’t get pulled over.

Just as he started the car, his phone rang. Alex hesitated, then pulled it out, unsurprised to find Michael’s name flashing. He stared at it a moment before rejecting the call, tucking his phone away. As he pulled out of the driveway, it rang again, and Alex ignored it.

He hadn’t spoken to Michael or Maria since that night when he’d gone to the Wild Pony after having spent an entire day waiting outside Michael’s trailer, only to find the two together at the bar. In that moment, Alex had quietly left, lost and shaking as Maria called out for him, begging him to come back. Not Michael though. Never Michael.

Alex’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his foot pressing a little harder on the gas pedal as he remembered lying in bed that night, unable to get the picture of his best friend and the love of his life out of his head. Michael had called then, too, and Alex had only allowed himself to listen to the voicemail. He pressed harder on the gas, Michael’s voice still echoing in his head as he tried to tell Alex why he couldn’t come to him, why he’d left him there to wait.

_Tied up with every ugly thing that’s ever happened to me_ , he’d said. _I need to breathe, and I can’t do that around you_ , was another one Alex remembered.

_He’s a part of you, Alex, no matter how bad we both wish he wasn’t._ Alex gasped, snapping out of the memory as a stop sign whistled by. That had been the worst of it, he thought as he gently pressed down on the brakes. That had been the one shot Michael couldn’t take back, the one Alex could never forgive, the one he would _never_ forget.

Alex blinked, slowly drifting out of his thoughts as he realized that the car wasn’t slowing down. He frowned, pressing a little harder on the brakes, then all the way, and whether he slammed it or not, the car wouldn’t stop.

“Oh my God,” Alex barely breathed before a truck suddenly appeared, and he swerved, nearly running himself off the road. His heart raced as he drove, trying the brakes again and again and again, but to no avail.

He fumbled for his phone as he tried to calm his thoughts. He had to focus. Calling the police would be pointless, as would calling Kyle.

“Come on, come on,” he whispered through grit teeth as he repeatedly slammed into the brakes, but the car wouldn’t even slow down. He barely managed to dodge another car coming in the opposite direction, its honks echoing behind him as his phone vibrated, and, startled, he nearly dropped it.

He caught hold of it quickly enough, silently thanking his military training, and when Michael’s name flashed again, an idea struck.

Alex’s eyes widened, and for the first time in a while, relief flooded his chest as he answered the call.

“Alex,” he answered, sounding surprised. “Are you finally talking to me?”

“Guerin,” Alex cut him off, “help!”

Alex’s heart hammered, his grip unbearably tight on the steering wheel, his leg aching with the pressure he was applying to the brakes. Traffic light after traffic light passed by, the lights flashing across Alex’s face before they were gone. The road was mostly barren, but he knew he’d eventually get to a street that wasn’t.

“What? Alex, did you –”

“I need you,” he blurted, trying to conjure up the Roswell street map in his mind, calculating how long it would take him to get to whatever street. At the speed he was going, if he didn’t slow down soon, he would definitely crash. And there was only one person who could slow down the car now.

“Are you drunk?” Michael asked after a moment, his voice darkening. “It sounds like you’re driving, tell me you’re not driving –”

“Guerin, _shut up and listen to me_!” Alex said before another two trucks appeared. Alex just barely missed them, and he swerved back onto the road, his shoulder slamming into his window. He winced, his hold on the phone tightening. “My brakes aren’t working, I can’t stop the car!”

“What’re you talking about? Where are you?”

“I’m – _ah_!” Alex looked over his shoulder with wide eyes at the pothole that’d nearly taken out his tire. He had to force a stop – _now_. He vaguely recognized Michael calling his name, frantic. He clenched his jaw. “I’m coming to you, I’m coming to the Airstream. I can’t pull over, and turning around is impossible with this – _speed_!” He dodged another car. “Guerin, can you stop the car or can’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael said, his voice much more alarmed. “I – oh my God, can you even make it to the Airstream? Tell me where you are, I’ll come to you –”

“There’s no time, you’re just gonna have to have faith in me!”

“I do,” Michael said, his voice steadier, “I do, okay, I definitely do, just – come to me, Alex, I’m waiting right outside, okay? I’m waiting for you.”

Alex swallowed, his deathlike grip on the phone unceasing. “Okay.”

He didn’t want to hang up. He wanted to keep listening to Michael’s voice, and he knew that if he ended the call, that source of what little peace he had left would vanish.

He clenched his jaw. “Guerin,” he said. “I need both hands on the wheel.”

“Don’t hang up the phone, Alex,” Michael said sternly. “Do _not_ hang up –”

“I need to concentrate,” he said. “I’m counting on you, Guerin, don’t let me down.”

And without waiting for Michael’s response, Alex ended the call, letting the phone fall from his hand as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“You can do this,” he muttered under his breath as his eyes caught the road that would take him to Michael’s trailer. “You can do this.”

As he neared it, Alex turned the wheel to the right, holding on as he was slammed into his window again. He kept alert for anything to avoid on the road, his heart jumping into his throat when he very nearly ran over a smaller car that hadn’t had its lights on.

It was when Alex felt an ache in his bad leg that the Airstream finally came into view, and he nearly exhaled a breathy sob of relief. His face fell when he realized he couldn’t see Michael anywhere in front of the trailer, and he was getting closer, closer, _closer_. He panicked that he would have to drive past it, running over the chairs, when he felt the car slowing down.

Alex held his breath as the car became slow enough to jump out of. He steered it towards a utility pole, and waited until it was pushed against it before climbing out, his aching legs stumbling as he touched the ground, and he fell right against someone’s chest.

“Alex,” Michael breathed into his hair, his arms coming around Alex’s back to hold him tightly. “You – you’re – you’re okay.”

“Y-Yeah,” Alex muttered, his hands curled into fists against Michael’s chest, his eyes fluttering shut. Every bone in his body wanted to stay close, to melt into Michael’s embrace, to inhale his scent and get swept up in him –

_He’s a part of you, Alex, no matter how bad we both wish he wasn’t._

Alex’s eyes opened with a gasp, and he pushed Michael away. He knew the cowboy was watching him with furrowed brows and hurt in his eyes, but Alex found it impossible to look at him. He was terrified of whatever would look back.

“Thanks,” he breathed, “Sorry I had to come here like this, I didn’t know what else to do.”

Michael shook his head. “No, don’t apologize. It’s not exactly how I imagined seeing you again, but at least…” he trailed off, his nose wrinkling as if he smelled something horrible. He stepped closer to Alex, taking in his scent, and pulled back with a frown. “You smell like alcohol.”

Alex blinked, pointing to the car. “No no no, my car just –”

“You are drunk, aren’t you?” his eyes narrowed. “Oh my God, Alex, is there actually any trouble with your car? Were you… were you _trying_ to crash?”

His eyes narrowed. “ _What_?”

“I was freaked out!” he yelled, his anger evident. “You almost gave me a damn heart attack! How could you do something so stupid?!”

“Hey!” Alex snapped. “Believe it or not, you are not the center of my universe, Guerin! If you honestly believe I could be so suicidal because of you –”

“But you smell –”

“I know what I smell like, asshole, someone doused the seats! The entire car reeks of the damn stuff.” He huffed. “I know it’s impossible to fathom, but I’m not spending my nights wasted for you, Guerin, and I’m _definitely_ not getting behind the wheel drunk.”

“If you’re not mad,” he stepped closer, his tone desperate, “then why won’t you answer my calls, huh? Why won’t you talk to me?!”

He shook his head. “Of course, I’m _mad_ , Guerin! I sat here waiting for you like an idiot, and you….” He rubbed his face, the adrenaline of nearly dying almost gone. “It’s too late in the day to humor you, okay? My brakes were cut, I need to know by who.”

Michael frowned. “You think someone did this on purpose?”

“I thought it was a hate crime at first, but it’s too much of a coincidence with everything else that’s happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was at a bar all night,” he said. “I’m guessing whoever did this expected me to be too drunk to think straight. I bet they were waiting somewhere, to make sure I got in. Only they couldn’t tell that I hadn’t had a sip, so –”

“Their plan failed,” Michael finished, his brows furrowed as he came to stand beside Alex. He looked angry. “They were trying to make it look like you’d been drunk driving. Who’d do this?”

Alex clenched his jaw. “I don’t know, but I should call the sheriff. I know someone’s after me now, and the more people I have investigating this, the better.”

“How are you so calm about this?” Michael flared. “Someone tried to kill you!”

“And I’m handling it,” Alex said, looking for his phone. It was probably too late to call the sheriff now, and he preferred not to ask Michael for any favors with Max, no matter the situation. He had to remember to keep a distance. He was just working out how he would get to the bunker from here when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Alex,” Michael turned him to face him, “I know you’re pissed off, but you have to talk to me. Do you really not have any idea who would be coming after you?”

Alex waved Michael’s hand away, and sighed. “Maybe someone from Project Shepherd? Despite what you may think, I’m not exactly my dad’s biggest fan, and he would never tolerate a disobedient soldier, son or not, so,” he shrugged, “I’ve probably got a good enough chance as anyone else at making his hitlist.”

Michael stared. “ _Despite what I may think?_ Please tell me what it is exactly I’m supposedly thinking.”

Alex clenched his jaw, his focus on his car as he tried to look for any signs of forced entry. “I don’t have to, you’ve made yourself perfectly clear.”

“Oh, please,” he stepped closer. “Enlighten me.”

Alex was silent for what felt like hours, then, “You’re not an idiot, Guerin. You know I’m in love with you.” Michael faltered, but Alex pushed on, finding the weeks’ worth of misery he’d been carrying in his chest flooding out. “You know I’ve _been_ in love with you since that day at the museum. But none of that matters because you don’t love me, and maybe I’m just having a hard time coming to terms with that.”

Michael shook his head, and for some reason, Alex thought he looked angrier. “Alex, you can’t honestly think I don’t –”

“I honestly do. At Caulfield,” he hesitated, “you said that we’d been holding onto this _thing_ , and it was time to let go. I thought at the time that you were just saying that to get me to leave. To keep me safe.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “Now I know you meant it. And you were right, it’s gotten us nowhere. A decade in the military, and I never moved on. Never even tried, because I didn’t want to. I was always waiting. Always. Guess it took being left in front of your trailer to realize that I’d been waiting alone.”

He felt his eyes burn, but he sniffed, wiping them before they even spilled. He wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t let Michael see how shattered he felt. He couldn’t trust him with that anymore. That was, Alex realized, the worst part of all of this. Michael just… didn’t feel safe.

Michael, he saw upon catching his eyes, seemed to realize that himself, and it only added to the anguish on his face.

“You know, I thought I was doing everything right; I did everything you wanted me to, I tried pushing past everything for you, I fought with _everything_ I had to save whatever part of me was left, and you _still_ saw him.” He scoffed and looked away. “It’s so unfair.”

“It’s just a _part_ , Alex, I can’t help it,” Michael said, his tone urgent, as if he _needed_ Alex to believe him. Alex, however, knew better than to hope that Michael needed anything of him. “You’re not your dad, I know you’re not!”

Alex finally looked at him and swallowed. “If it’s just a part, then why didn’t you show up?”

“I…” Michael started, and seemed to realize too late that he had no answer. Alex was disappointed, but unsurprised.

He pulled his phone from the car, and dialed for a cab. As he did, he couldn’t help but confess, “I spent my whole life hating myself for what I saw in the mirror. It was stupid to think you’d see anything else.” He held the phone to his ear, and began walking towards the main road, despite the pain in his leg. “I’ll have a tow truck come pick up my car in the morning.” He paused, then, “Thanks for saving me, Guerin.”

And as he left, his heart couldn’t help but sink further and further down with each step, because Michael made no effort to stop him.


	13. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex are stuck in the UFO museum with a killer alien chasing them.

“This is all my fault,” Michael said as he sat against the wall, the fake stars pasted on the ceiling flashing dimly like a dying memory. “We’re gonna die here, and it’s all my fault.”

“We’re not going to die,” Alex said calmly as he examined the electric wires on the floor, probably used to keep the stars and UFO lit. The first time Michael had ever set foot in here, his thoughts had been consumed with Alex. They were alone now, as they had been before, but this time, they were barricaded in while a psychotic, murderous alien roamed the halls outside, looking for them.

“You’re not freaked out,” he noted, and Alex raised a brow at him.

“Neither are you.”

Michael shrugged, trying to pretend his eyes weren’t burning, his heart wasn’t racing, his fingers weren’t trembling, because he wasn’t the only one trapped. Alex was here, and that was his fault, too.

He shrugged a shoulder. “This is as freaked out as I get.”

Alex hummed, his attention on the wires as he checked their lengths, his eyes going between them and the door as if trying to calculate something.

“Alex,” Michael tried.

“Freaking out won’t do anything,” Alex said. _He didn’t sound angry_ , Michael realized, _or annoyed_. He talked as if he was addressing any stranger that he was trying to keep calm. Somehow, it felt worse.

“Alex Manes in action,” he joked, trying to ignore the increasing dread in his chest. “I know it’s probably not the time, but I’m kinda turned on.”

Alex gave him a brief smirk, though his attention was elsewhere. Michael stared, and swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

Alex stilled, glancing at him. He resumed quickly enough, shaking his head. “Don’t be sorry, I told you, I’m getting us out of this.”

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come with me.”

“ _Guerin_ –”

“I didn’t need you here, Alex, I lied,” Michael blurted. “You just – you were only talking to me when you needed information for a Project Shepherd case, so I figured I would, I don’t know, get you here and – and,” he shrugged, “I didn’t even think that far ahead, I just wanted you here.”

Alex stared, then sighed, using a pocketknife to cut a few wires, tying a few of them together, and Michael was quick to add, “B-But I _swear_ , I didn’t think there’d be any risk! This is all just freaky timing!”

Alex pocketed his knife, fixed the wires onto the smaller UFO near the door, and stepped back, dusting his hands off. He grabbed his gun, and sat beside Michael against the wall, his right leg stretched out while he brought his left up to his chest. “I know,” he said, and Michael frowned. “I know you were lying, Guerin.”

“Then, why agree to come?”

Alex shook his head, seemingly deliberating something with himself. In the end, he huffed a miserable, resigned chuckle. “Because I miss you. I just _miss you_ , Guerin.”

Michael felt something bloom in his chest, the relief at hearing the words he’d been longing to hear for years hitting him at once, and for a moment, his tears, his racing heart, his trembling hands – it was all for Alex.

“Yeah?”

Alex smiled kindly, nodding.

“I miss you, too, Alex,” he said quietly, and moved to scoot closer to the airman.

Alex, who hadn’t noticed, looked down and said, “It’s too bad we couldn’t make it work.”

Michael froze. “What?”

Alex finally caught Michael’s eyes, and Michael saw that he wasn’t angry or disappointed or even afraid – just _tired_.

“It’s funny,” he said, leaning back, checking the bullets in his gun. “This is the worst time to be having this conversation, I know, but…”

“Then let’s not have it,” he said, desperation crawling up his throat. Alex looked at him almost blankly, as if he couldn’t see him anymore, but saw someone else. He remembered when Alex had barely been able to look at him, and he’d thought it was the worst thing ever; the anger in his stare, the tears, the misery – but _this_ , he realized, this was way worse. Alex looked at him with a sort of sad resignation, an almost numb exhaustion that told Michael he was done, that he had nothing left to give, and he’d come to accept that.

“I don’t know how else to say I’m sorry, Alex,” he said. “I don’t know what to do to make you believe me.”

“I know you’re sorry,” he said.

“Stop talking to me like that,” he leaned in.

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t love me anymore!”

The door slammed suddenly, and Alex and Michael got to their feet, Michael cursing.

He stood beside the airman, an arm up to shield him, another raised at the door, ready to blast apart anything that came in. He glanced at Alex, expecting him to look concerned, but the airman eyed the door, his gun aimed, his eyes glancing at the wires that he’d pinned along the wall and UFO, determination in his eyes.

“Here we go,” he muttered, steadying his stance.

“You look like you have a plan,” he said, and inhaled sharply as the door slammed again, the frames cracking. “Please tell me you have a plan.”

“I have a plan,” Alex said.

 _BOOM!_ the door slammed, and Michael swallowed. “A _good_ plan?”

“Er –” _BOOM BOOM BOOM!_ “Just shoot him into the UFO when I say so, and then run.”

“You’re coming with me, right?” Alex didn’t answer. “ _Right_?”

“Yeah, yes, right behind you!”

Right then, the door shattered apart, sharp pieces of wood flying everywhere. Michael used his powers to shield himself and Alex, and he saw it. His hands clenched to fists as the alien approached them. It had looked like a man when Michael had seen it barely half an hour ago, and now it looked like a black squid growing on a human body, his tentacles whipping everywhere.

“Uh – Alex,” Michael said, “now?”

“Wait,” Alex commanded, closing one eye as he took aim.

The squid-man-alien _thing_ moved closer, and Michael resisted the urge to move back, pulling Alex closer to him.

“Now?”

“Wait for it… _now_!”

Michael barely registered Alex turning the gun away from the alien and towards the UFO. He threw the alien into it just as the airman took his shot, and Michael realized what Alex had been doing with the wires.

He’d been making an explosive, just large enough to fry a regular-sized man. Michael assumed, anyway. He didn’t stick around to watch. As soon as the bomb went off, he ran out, just as Alex had told him. He rounded a corner, and turned around, panicked only for a split-second when he found that Alex wasn’t behind him.

“I told you to run!” Alex suddenly said as he came around the corner, and Michael couldn’t help but hold onto his shoulders briefly, making sure he was actually there and safe, before he nodded, took Alex’s hand in his, and ran, unable to stop moving until he’d gotten them both out.

Once they were in his truck, far away from the museum, Michael felt himself able to breathe. “Okay,” he panted, “you did it, Alex, you saved us.” He huffed a chuckle, reaching for his phone. As he’d feared, the battery was empty. He thought of Max’s face as he pulled up in his driveway, thought of the millions of messages and calls his brother and sister must’ve left him after having undoubtedly sensed his distress, and he knew he had to reassure them before anything else.

“Alex,” he said, his eyes on the road, “give me your phone a second, I need to call Max.” Alex didn’t answer. “Alex?”

He looked over, and his heart sank. Alex was limp in his seat, his face turned away from Michael, leaning against the window in an almost painful position, and along his chest, something Michael hadn’t noticed before because Alex had kept his jacket tight around him, was a deep gash, now seeping blood through his clothes.

“Oh my God,” he breathed, and brought the car to a screeching halt. He hurried out of his side, and ran over to Alex, pulling him out from the small space. “Alex, hey, Alex.”

Alex’s eyes were almost closed as he looked at Michael. He stepped out, and all but fell against him.

“Hey, _hey_!” Michael said, cursing his voice for trembling. He brought a hand into Alex’s hair, holding his head gently. “You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex breathed. “It was the only way.”

“You knew that stupid bomb would hit you,” realization dawned, and he shook his head, moving Alex’s bangs from his forehead as he struggled to keep them both standing. He clenched his jaw. _Alex was freezing_. “Of course, you did.”

“I needed you to… to be safe,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, stop, don’t, okay? You’re gonna be fine, just hold onto me,” he kissed his forehead, then his cheeks, the press of his lips hard and desperate. _Alex was going to be fine_ , he thought as he reached for the airman’s phone in his pocket and dialed Max’s number. _It’s Alex, Alex is always fine._

Alex nodded sleepily, his grip on Michael’s sleeves loosening. Michael panicked, holding him upright against the car. “Come on, Manes, this isn’t how this is supposed to happen, okay? You’re gonna be fine –”

“I love you,” he whispered, looking increasingly pale. “I just… had to tell you… you didn’t… look like you knew…”

Michael stared, his eyes burning. “I did,” he croaked. “I knew. I love you, too.” He sniffed, moving close enough to Alex to press their foreheads together, his hold on Alex’s phone tight as it rang. _Come on, Max,_ come on _._

Alex went almost completely limp, sliding in Michael’s embrace, and Michael gasped, stepping closer. “Alex, Alex, please, look at me, okay? No, don’t close your eyes, open them and look at me – _look_. I’m right here, I’m not leaving you ever again, I swear, Alex. Please, open your eyes and look at me. I’m right here, Alex, _look at me_!” he tried, his breaths turning quicker and shallower, a tear falling down his cheek as his heart hammered hard enough that it beat against his own ears. “Alex, look, I’m here.”

Michael barely felt the tightening of fingers on his sleeve as the other line picked up, his brother’s voice distant, as if underwater.


	14. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds out the reason Alex's dog tags mean so much to him.

“Lose something?” Alex looked up from his punching bag, sweaty and panting, another soldier standing there in his training clothes, an amused smirk on his face as he dangled a pair of dog tags from their chain.

Alex sniffed, and resumed his stance, his fists up. “Stop going through my stuff, Jackson.”

“I didn’t,” the tall blonde said, his blue eyes gleaming as they came around Alex. “I found them on the ground.”

“Under my bed?” Alex panted, taking another few swings at the bag. “That’s my stuff.”

His smile softened. “Come on, Manes,” he said, and Alex felt the chain go around his neck, the dog tags settling on his chest.

He sighed, his head ducked. “Why do you always do that?”

Jackson leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. “Why don’t you ever wear them?”

“Because I don’t want to,” he said, and closed his fist around them, about to yank them off.

“Careful,” Jackson said. “One of these days, I might not be here to put them back on you.” He tilted his head, his smile widening. “And then you’ll be sorry.”

Alex’s eyes fell to his arms, the way his muscles flexed underneath his short sleeves. He caught Alex staring, and something in his eyes twinkled. Alex looked away and scoffed. “I’ll learn to live with it,” he said, and pulled the tags off.

“Rough day?”

“Sergeant Manes routine checkup,” Alex said, his father’s cold eyes as he examined him etched into his memory. “ _Came to visit his son_ , my ass.” He clenched his jaw. “He stood there and _tested_ how quickly I could disassemble and reassemble a rifle, then proceeded to tell me how I wasn’t realizing my full potential, and needed to spend more hours in training. Him and his Manes Man bullshit – I could save the entire base from a missile attack with one arm tied behind my back, and he’d _still_ talk down to me.”

Alex punched the bag so hard, it almost flew. He briefly registered the pain shoot up his arm, and he wrung his hand out before resuming his pace, unable to help but take a particularly rough shot with every passing thought of his father’s words.

“Full potential?” Jackson laughed. “You mean there’s _more_ to you?”

Alex closed his eyes, huffing a chuckle despite himself. He looked at the chain hanging from his fist, the tags digging into his palm, reminding him that they were there.

He came to stand beside the soldier, tossing the necklace into his hand. “Put those back where you found them please.”

He raised his brow at the tags resting on his open palm. “You really hate your life here, don’t you?”

Alex slowed as he reached for a water bottle on the ground. He took a big gulp before he simply said, “You know why I’m here.”

“Then why do you fight so hard?” he asked, and carefully put the tags in his pocket as if they were delicate pieces of jewelry. Alex had a feeling he wouldn’t find them under his bed again. “Manes, you’re the best of us. No one gets that good without having something to fight for.”

“Maybe I’m fighting for the war to end,” Alex said after a moment, and glanced at Jackson, the soldier watching him closely.

“Well,” he said quietly, his eyes falling to Alex’s lips, “if anyone could do it…”

Alex swallowed. He was fully aware of Jackson leaning in, and for a moment, his eyes fluttered shut, waiting for the soft press of lips against his. He felt Jackson’s body heat as he came closer, his hot breath fanning Alex’s lips, and just as he felt their noses brush, one face came to mind. And it wasn’t Jackson’s.

He gasped, his eyes widening, and he stepped back, his hand on Jackson’s chest.

Jackson’s eyes opened slowly, though he didn’t look surprised. He silently leaned away, resting against the wall again with his hands behind his back.

The two stood there for what felt like forever, and then Jackson said, “So,” the corner of his lips tilted upward in a half-smile, “you do have something you’re fighting for.”

“Jackson,” he shook his head, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why…”

“I do,” he said. “You love him.”

“It’s been almost ten years since I’ve seen him,” Alex said, “my worst memory is tied up with him, I can’t think of him without wanting to cry or scream or _hit_ something –” He rubbed his face. “It doesn’t make any _sense_ to love him.”

Jackson huffed a chuckle, looking at Alex as if he’d missed the most obvious point. “Love’s not supposed to make sense, Manes. When are you gonna learn to stop fighting what you feel?”

Alex shrugged his shoulder, and said, “Well, there’s no point, is there? I’m here and he’s… wherever he is.”

“True, very true,” Jackson said, his voice suddenly light as he turned his body to Alex and smiled innocently, “but a suggestion, if I may. _I’m_ here, and I don’t think anyone else is coming in here to practice any time soon, so if you really want to work up a sweat, I’m willing to be your human punching bag, if you know what I mean.”

“Get away from me,” Alex laughed, shoving him lightly.

Jackson watched him, his expression softening, and he brought a hand up to gently cup Alex’s cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of Alex’s lips. “There. Didn’t look like you had it in you to laugh today. Had me worried for a second there, Manes.”

Alex searched his face and closed his eyes, leaning into his touch, covering his hand with his own, and they stayed like that until the sun set.

The next time Alex felt Jackson’s touch, he was shaking him awake. “Hey, come on, get up.”

Alex barely blinked twice before he was out of bed, reaching for his clothes, but Jackson stopped him, taking a hold of his arms. “Hey, no, there’s no mission, I just wanted to check out with you before I left.”

“Left?” Alex asked, and Jackson shushed him. Alex then realized that Jackson was in full combat uniform, and no one else had been woken up. Dread immediately settled in his chest. “What’re you talking about?” he whispered. “Where’re you going?”

“Retrieval op, just a few of us have been selected,” he said, “nothing big, don’t worry, but you know you’re my good luck charm, so I couldn’t go without seeing you.”

Alex nodded uncertainly. He thought about offering to go with him, but he knew he’d never be allowed to. Not to mention the trouble Jackson would get into if their sergeant found out he’d talked about a mission with another soldier who hadn’t been assigned to the case.

“And,” Jackson continued, snapping Alex out of his thoughts, “bringing you these back.” He held up Alex’s dog tags, and before Alex could realize what he was doing, Jackson pulled back, a satisfied smile on his lips as the tags hung from Alex’s neck, settling over his heart as if they belonged there.

“Jackson –” he moved to tug them off, and Jackson caught his wrist.

“No no, you can’t do that now, I’m leaving. You’re supposed to yank them off in front of my face, and watch me cry about it, like a real man.” Alex frowned, and Jackson shrugged, chuckling. “Just wait till I come to see you again to take them off, I won’t be gone long.”

“What – What is it with you and these tags? Why do they matter so much to you?” he couldn’t help but ask, trying to pretend the growing dread in his chest was actually irritation.

Jackson had begun to leave, but at Alex’s question, he stopped, and looked over his shoulder at him. He smiled, reaching under his collar and pulling out his own tags, as if trying to show Alex a secret message. “I’ll tell you when I get back.”

*

“Those were the last words he ever said to you?” Michael said, his hot breath fanning the nape of Alex’s neck.

Alex’s heart ached as he told the story, his tags in hand, but with Michael behind him now, their naked bodies pressed together in bed, Michael’s arms wrapped around Alex’s waist as if to protect him, Alex felt himself able to breathe easier than he had in a long time.

Alex nodded, and Michael’s hold tightened on him, one hand covering Alex’s on his tags, his thumb lightly brushing Alex’s engraved name. “And you never found out why they meant so much to him?”

Alex hesitated, his brows furrowed as he slowly said, “I think it’s because they were what bonded us. Kept us together.” He turned in Michael’s hold, facing him. “You were always on my mind, Guerin, and he knew it. You were the reason I never started anything with him, even knowing how he felt.” He shook his head. “I don’t know, maybe because we both had the tags, he saw it as some kind of…”

“Connection,” Michael finished. “And you said he kept putting them on you.” His brows furrowed. “He loved you so much he wanted to keep you any way he could.”

Alex searched his face, his hold on his tags tightening. “Are you mad?”

Michael pursed his lips, looking deep in thought. “No, I’m… I’m glad you had someone like that with you. It’s a real relief, actually.”

“Hey,” Alex said softly, bringing his hand up to cup Michael’s cheek, “what’s on your mind?”

“Did you love him?” he asked after a moment, and Alex considered it. The one question he’d been dodging for over a year, the one he could never bring himself to ask because the answer felt like a kind of betrayal. Still…

_When are you gonna learn to stop fighting what you feel?_

“I did,” he said, a heavy pressure on his chest finally gone as the confession left him. “I don’t think he ever knew that, but I did. I’m sorry.”

Michael raised a brow and smiled, amused, holding Alex closer, and kissing his forehead once, twice, _three_ times.

He leaned back, holding Alex’s tags, and it filled Alex’s heart with an inexplicable warmth to see the delicate touch which he did it with.

“Harley Jackson,” Michael sighed, “you were there for Alex when I couldn’t be. Thank you.” He raised a brow at Alex. “Makes sense, doesn’t it? Heroes always have someone they’re fighting for.”

Michael watched the gleam of the tags in the sunlight, and Alex watched him. He smiled softly as his friend’s words echoed in his ear, and after all this time, he finally understood what he’d meant.

_So… you do have something you’re fighting for._

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess they do.”


	15. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael accidentally hurts Alex with his powers.

“Heard you took Alex out last night,” Michael said, the sound of the door as it shut behind Alex still echoing throughout the bunker.

Kyle looked up from across the table, the file he’d been working on still in his hands as his brow rose. “Heard from who?”

Michael shrugged a shoulder. “Just a friend saw you guys at the bar.” _Together_ , the word remained unspoken, though not unheard.

“And thought it was groundbreaking enough to tell you?” Kyle asked, setting his file down. “Or are you just following Alex around _again_?”

Michael stared. “Just answer the question, Valenti.”

Kyle smirked humorlessly, his eyes dark. “I warned you the last time that I’d tell Alex you were stalking him unless you stopped, and you obviously haven’t, so now I will.”

“Did you take him out or not?”

Kyle shook his head. “What does it matter? You’re not a couple, and I think you’ve made your feelings about him very clear.”

Michael flinched, his jaw clenched as he recalled Alex’s wide, trusting eyes looking at him as if he was the only good thing he knew he could believe in, the only good parts of himself that he knew for sure at least one person saw. And he remembered the way that trust shattered as Michael told him that his father was a part of him, that it was that part that was too hard to get past, that part that hurt Michael the most.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet and dark. “I don’t think what happens between me and Alex is any of your business.”

“Funny,” Kyle said, continuing his search through his file, “I was just about to say the same thing to you.”

Michael had one hand on the desk in front of him, a list of old Project Shepherd files to go through, but he couldn’t think about them at all. He was here because Alex needed his insight on the alien research, but he didn’t want the cowboy here, that much was obvious. Michael’s eyes fell to the chair beside Kyle’s that had been pushed out as Alex had found yet another excuse to step outside, as if even being in the same space as Michael hurt him. He scratched a finger on the desk. Following Alex around, watching him from a distance, it was the _only_ way Michael could have him.

“He loves me,” Michael said, and whether he was trying to convince Kyle or himself, he didn’t know. “Don’t think just because you take him out for a few drinks that that’s gonna change.”

“I know he loves you, Guerin,” Kyle said, his voice almost rough, his research forgotten, and Michael could tell he was touching a nerve. Somehow, it made him angrier. Why did Kyle care so much about Alex’s feelings for him? Why did it matter? “I know what he thinks of you, and I _know_ what you mean to him.”

“Good,” Michael said. “So you’ll know not to get any closer to him than you have to.”

Kyle expression darkened, and he looked at Michael as if he was someone else. “ _Don’t_ threaten me. Especially not with Alex.”

“Stop saying his name like that,” Michael stood, his voice rising. “He doesn’t care about you, not like he cares about me. The longer you stay away from him, the less confused he’ll be.”

“That’s not up to you!” he said. “What right do you think you have to be making _any_ decisions for him? Do you have any idea what you did to him? Comparing him to that _monster_ – it’s _sick_!”

“I didn’t compare him to Jesse –”

“You may as well have!” He shook his head, looking at Michael as if he couldn’t understand how the cowboy was missing the point so badly. “You – You treat him like he’s made of stone, like he can take anything you throw at him – _he can’t_! Everyone has a breaking point, Guerin, and that was his. It’s sad that you don’t realize how much worse it is that it came from you.”

Michael’s nails dug into his palms, and he felt it; the slight shift in his balance. Suddenly everything that wasn’t bolted to the ground had risen up, from small things like scrolls of blueprints to larger, like discarded computers and chairs, all levitating up to their chests. Kyle looked startled only for a moment before his gaze settled on Michael, hesitant.

Michael, on the other hand, couldn’t have cared less about what his powers were doing, his anger directed at Kyle. He finally figured it out, the gradually growing rage in his chest, his blood boiling, the race of his thoughts and his heart at the same time – it wasn’t anguish because of Alex, it was fury at Kyle.

“You know, I’ve always hated you,” he said, his voice quiet and trembling. “Even when we were teenagers, and you were a total _dick_ , you still acted like you knew Alex better than anyone. Like there was something between you that nobody else could live up to.”

Kyle shook his head, even as the objects lifted higher. “You can’t scare me, Guerin.”

“You always think you know best, even if that means keeping him away from me.”

“I’m not keeping him away from you, _you’re_ the one who pushed him away!” Kyle snapped. “If you’re waiting for him to say that he’ll wait for you, you’re gonna be waiting a long time!”

Michael swallowed, and he could feel the objects start to turn around them, as if closing them off from the outside. “Did you sleep with him?”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “ _What_?”

“Did you sleep with him?” Michael repeated. “And I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“ _Guerin_ –”

“What about kissing? Have you kissed him?”

“You need to calm down,” Kyle said, his eyes darting around as the levitating wall spun faster.

“ _Have you kissed him_?!”

“No, okay?!” he snapped, panic seeping into his voice. “Guerin, stop already –”

But Michael couldn’t stop. Kyle acted like he understood, but he didn’t. Michael felt every racing thought since not only last night, but since the day Alex had walked away from him for what felt like would be the last time, since the look of hurt and betrayal on his face seemed to overwhelm any love he had for Michael – he felt every bit of that fear hit him at once.

What if that had been his one chance, and he’d thrown it away? What if Alex never forgave him? What if Alex never stopped blaming himself because of Michael? What if Michael had broken him?

“You don’t know what he is to me,” he said, his voice quiet, his eyes burning as the fear gnawed at his heart. Last night had just confirmed Michael’s greatest fear. Last night had shown him that Alex could move on, that he could learn to trust somebody more than he ever trusted Michael, that he could fall in love with someone else. The idea, Michael thought, felt worse than any death ever could. “You don’t know what I’d do to keep him, Valenti, you have _no idea_.”

Kyle’s eyes seemed to catch something behind Michael, and his face fell. “Alex –”

Michael exhaled a shaky breath, pressing the bottom of his palms to his eyes. “ _Stop saying his name_!”

“Guerin –” a voice said, and a hand suddenly touched his shoulder. Michael, angered and blind to everything but the fire burning behind his eyes, yelled, and everything close to him was pushed away, hitting the walls.

Everything fell silent, and Michael, after looking up, realized that Kyle was still standing, though his expression had turned to shock and horror. Michael’s frown deepened, dread immediately crawling up his throat. _Who had touched his shoulder?_

He followed Kyle’s gaze, and his heart sunk when he saw Alex lay against the wall amongst piles of folders, wires, chairs, and smashed computers. He was breathing shakily, his hand holding his waist, his cheek and lip cut from one of the sharp tools, his arm barely holding himself up from the ground as Kyle hurried to his side, his hands on his shoulders. He tried to help him sit up, but Alex winced, and all but fell against the doctor. Michael’s arms went limp at his side. He hurt Alex.

“Alex,” he breathed, and took a step toward him.

“Don’t!” Kyle snapped, holding Alex closer.

Michael flinched, stumbling back. He hurt Alex. He hurt Alex, he hurt Alex, he hurt Alex.

“I’m – I’m sorry, Alex.”

But Alex had been thrown against the wall too roughly, his eyes hazed as he tried to control his breathing, as if he didn’t even know who he was holding onto and who he was keeping away.

Michael’s hands trembled, and he moved toward the door. “I’m sorry,” he muttered over and over as he left the bunker, taunted with the thought that the further away he got, the safer Alex would be.


	16. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little Michael appreciation fluff.

Alex woke to soft breathing against the nape of his neck. Two arms wrapped around his waist tightly, a naked body pressed against his back. He settled back onto the pillow as he remembered that he had slept over at Michael’s, that that was okay, that he didn’t need to worry about anyone coming for them anymore.

Still, Alex covered Michael’s hand with his own, the warm, rough skin a comfort. He traced Michael’s wrist with his thumb, and when he felt Michael nuzzle against his neck, he smiled.

He turned slowly in his hold so that they were facing each other, and for what felt like hours, Alex just laid there, staring at the cowboy. The tips of his curls turned to gold under the sunlight, the bright light behind him from the window illuminating his entire body. _Angel_ , Alex thought as he softly traced his fingers along Michael’s chin, his stubble scratching his fingers. Alex bit his lower lip as his smile widened. A rugged angel, but an angel, nonetheless.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips against Michael’s in a gentle kiss, and as he pulled back, he felt Michael’s hands on his lower back, pulling him in deeper.

Michael hummed, his eyes closed. “Alex,” he muttered tiredly as he snuggled against Alex’s collarbone, holding their bodies unbearably close together. Alex smiled into his curls, inhaling the scent of vanilla and dirt. He ran one hand down Michael’s back, enjoying the way the cowboy moaned against his skin.

Small specks of gold floated in the sunlight surrounding them, and Alex’s hold tightened protectively around Michael as he thought about the next hour or so, when they’d have to get up. Living the life he’d had, Alex had learned that everything good disappeared sooner or later, and even now, he couldn’t help that beating, echoing fear in his chest that he would lose this, too. He would lose Michael, the sunlight, the warmth, the love – all gone, replaced with fire, and storms, and gunshots… then he’d feel Michael’s hold on him tighten, Michael’s lips press a soft kiss to his skin, Michael’s warmth enveloping him as he whispered in his ear, telling Alex that _he_ was the warmth, the comfort, the love that kept Michael safe.

And every time, Alex would bury his face against the crook of Michael’s neck. Michael treasured him, Alex knew that, but he had no idea – _no idea_ – how wrong he was. It was Michael who was the treasure, the one Alex couldn’t live without.

Alex closed his eyes, his fingers digging into Michael’s skin, undoubtedly bruising, but he needed it. He needed to know that Michael was there, that he was here, safe in the cowboy’s bed, and not lying in a ditch somewhere, surrounded by screams and blood and death. Michael never complained, never allowed Alex to apologize when the purple spots revealed themselves hours later.

_I’m glad I’m your anchor_ , he always said. _When you get scared, hold onto me. As tight as you can._

“I love you,” Alex whispered, his eyes burning despite himself, and after a moment, he felt the tickling press of Michael’s lips against his neck, muttering the same words back.


	17. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is angry with Michael for using the word 'toxic' to describe them.

Michael hadn’t dared enter the airstream until he heard his bed creaking, Alex’s soft grunts sounding from the inside. He had been sitting on the front steps of the trailer, and hurried inside to see Alex struggling to stand up.

“Whoa, Alex, stop,” Michael hurried to his side, his hands on his bare back. “You can’t move around that quickly, you’ll reopen your wound.”

Alex breathed heavily, his hand going to the thick bandages wrapped around his waist, his brows furrowed.

“What – what happened?” he panted. “Is this the – why am I here?”

“Okay, breathe, Alex, breathe, it’s okay,” he rubbed Alex’s back soothingly. “You were shot, you don’t remember?”

Alex winced as he shook his head. “Don’t –”

“Don’t what?” he moved his hands to Alex’s shoulders. “Does it hurt to touch your back? What about your arms? Is this better?” His skin was warm, which Michael thought was a good sign. He could still feel the chill of Alex’s body against his as he had brought him into the hospital, the image of Alex bleeding and half-dead flashing over and over in his mind. It was okay, Alex was better now. He was awake, and talking, and _warm_.

“Don’t touch me,” Alex muttered weakly, swatting his hand away.

“What?” Michael frowned, trying to help Alex again only to be pushed away.

“Don’t touch me, Guerin!” he yelled and winced, his arm around his waist as his breathing turned faster and shallower.

“Okay,” Michael stepped back until he was off the bed, his hands up in defense. “Okay, just… please, lie back down, okay?”

But either Alex didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him as he managed to sit up. “I want to go home, I want to – _why am I here_?”

“I brought you here,” he said, reaching for a bottle of water from his fridge. He put it on the counter beside Alex’s head, pushing it closely to him, though he didn’t take it. Michael dared to reach further, but his fingers had barely brushed Alex’s hair before the airman was moving away from him again.

“Don’t touch me!” he snapped, and just as he did, he moaned with pain, rolling onto his side. Michael was beside him in an instant.

“Alex –”

“Don’t!” he warned. “I’m fine, I can do this by myself.”

“Alex, you don’t have to – _let me help you_!”

Michael led Alex against the pillows, his frown deepening as he pulled his hands back to find them soaked. “You’re exhausting yourself, you need to sit still.”

Alex closed his eyes, his breathing slowing down, deepening, and after a moment, he said, “I want to go home.”

“You could hurt yourself leaving now.”

“I don’t care.”

Michael clenched his jaw. “You hate me so much you’d risk cutting your body open and bleeding out?” Alex said nothing, only his fists tightening in the bedsheets, and Michael tried to ignore the heavy weight in his chest, the acid that rose up his throat, making it difficult for him to talk. He tried to will away the fire behind his eyes as he watched Alex, resolute and _angry_ , angrier than Michael had ever seen him. Michael knew he was the one to blame for that resentment, but he didn’t know things with the airman had gotten this bad. That Michael had _turned_ him this bad.

“Alex,” he said, his voice soft. Alex glared, and Michael retreated the one step he’d taken, his hands up. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t want your help,” he said, and winced, his hand on his waist, his other reaching to hold onto the counter behind him, his fingers white. “Don’t come near me, Guerin, I mean it.”

Michael swallowed. “You’re in pain, if I could just –”

“ _Don’t come near me_ ,” he grit, and after a moment, his grip on the counter relented, and he panted. Michael felt the grip on his own heart loosen as Alex’s breathing gradually turned deeper, calmer.

“You okay?”

Alex inhaled deeply a few more times, his brows furrowed and his eyes blinking as if he was trying to fight off a migraine. “Where’s my phone?”

Michael straightened, his frown deepening. “Why? What do you want with it?”

“To call Kyle,” he said, throwing the blanket off before he slowly tried to move his legs to the edge of the bed. “I need him to take me back to the cabin.”

Michael glanced over his shoulder at Alex’s phone as Alex looked around the trailer, and subtly moved along the edge of the table, blocking it from view.

“Beats me,” he said, and Alex’s eyes settled on him, suspicious, then his shoulders slumped, and he reached an expectant hand out to the cowboy.

Michael’s heart jumped for a moment as he reached forward, about to take Alex’s hand, to feel the warmth of his skin, but Alex avoided his touch, his eyes narrowed. “Are you out of your mind? I want you to give me my phone off the table.”

Michael stuck his tongue in his cheek. “To call Valenti.”

“I don’t care who comes to get me, Guerin, I just want to get out of here,” he said, impatient.

Michael stood, stalling as he glanced at Alex’s phone on the table. “Alex,” he finally said, the plea in his voice evident even to his own ears, though coming as no surprise. “Please, I’m just trying to fix what I –”

“ _Toxic_ ,” Alex hissed, and Michael went silent. “I think that was the word you used, wasn’t it? That’s what you thought of _me_.” His hand trembled slightly as he held it out, and Michael’s heart fell into his stomach as a tear fell down Alex’s cheek. “Give me the damn phone, Guerin.”

Michael looked for an argument, an apology, _anything_ that would tell Alex that he hadn’t meant it, that he was stupid, that he loved Alex more than he could ever love anyone, that he didn’t want to be with anyone the way he desperately wanted – the way he _needed_ – to be with Alex.

But as his lower lip slightly quivered and his eyes filled with tears, Michael knew that if he messed up, if anything came out wrong, Alex would cry, and he didn’t think he could forgive himself if he made Alex cry again.

Without a word, he handed Alex his phone, and quietly stood as he called Kyle, asking him to come get him. Michael watched as Alex spoke, so confident that Kyle would be there for him. He still remembered the last time Alex had trusted him, just as he remembered the instant that trust had shattered to pieces.

After Alex hung up, he slowly got up, put his prosthetic on, and got dressed in his own clothes, as if the cowboy’s clothes burned his skin. He wouldn’t allow himself to even lean against Michael for a second, and when he was finished, he sat with a heavy sigh on the bed, unable to stay standing. He sat in silence with Michael standing across from him, just watching him breathe.

“I love you,” he said. “I know it’s unfair to say it now, like this, but I do. I just want you to know that.”

Alex said nothing, staring straight ahead as if hoping that, if he imagined hard enough, he could transport himself somewhere far away.

“Alex, please look at me. _Please_.” Alex relented and looked up. Michael took a step closer, and was encouraged when Alex didn’t warn him away. “I’ve never known anything like you. I can handle cars, and bar signs, and – and _spaceships_ , but you… I don’t know… I’ve – I’ve never felt…” His head hung, and he sighed deeply before he said, “I don’t know what to do with you.”

Alex shook his head. “You don’t get it.”

“Then _tell_ me!”

“I’m not broken, Guerin,” he said in a voice barely over a whisper, his brows furrowed as if he couldn’t understand how Michael had missed that point. “I may be beaten up, but I’m not broken. I’m not your crashed spaceship, I never needed you to _fix_ me. I just… needed _you_.”

They heard the sound of a car outside. _Valenti_ , Michael thought, and looked over to see Alex wincing as he stood. When he got to his feet, he said, “That’s the worst part in all of this, you know. Not what you called me, not what you thought of us. It’s that, after everything, the one…” he visibly swallowed, “the _only_ person I thought I could trust to keep me safe, to be there for me… became the one person I couldn’t.”


	18. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Kyle power duo.

“Is that the guy?” Kyle said, his voice quiet as he leaned into his partner. “Markson?”

Alex hummed without glancing behind him. As he took a sip of his wine glass, one hand in the pant pocket of his black tux, Kyle couldn’t help but once against silently admire the way the airman seemed to have eyes on the back of his head, always able to sense his surroundings. Though it was a harsh reminder of what Alex had had to endure after high school – the life of military training and codebreaking and covert ops – it was still amazing to believe that this was the same boy who had run around with Kyle for hours in their backyard, playing ninjas and sorcerers and Power Rangers and whatever else their imagination had wanted them to be.

Now, here they were, trying to uncover a possible, essential member of Project Shepherd, and Kyle couldn’t help but feel like it was just him and Alex, in his backyard, playing spies. Except this was real, and there was a risk of serious danger, and despite it all, Alex barely bat an eye.

“You don’t look too scared,” Kyle noted, taking a subtle look around the ballroom as he lifted his own glass of champagne to his lips. “Isn’t this supposed to be your dad’s right hand man?”

Alex scoffed, raising a brow. “My dad doesn’t trust anyone whose last name isn’t Manes, and even then that’s a gamble,” he added in a mutter. “But his name was on all the files, he was in charge of disposing of evidence should anyone access the computers.”

“Kinda sucks at his job then, doesn’t he? You accessed those computers months ago, and he hasn’t even changed the password.”

“Because I’m smarter,” Alex said very matter-of-factly, as if this was no feat, as if – by being a Manes – it was only natural that he was smarter than most. As if even the accomplishment of being clever didn’t matter.

Kyle kept his eyes on Alex, his fingers tightening on his champagne glass. He knew exactly who was responsible for that. Alex had never been the kind of guy to give himself much credit, but he was never the kind of guy to dismiss his own achievements so easily either. Not until _he_ had opened his mouth, not until _he_ had beaten Alex to the ground.

Still, Kyle knew that this was not the time for this kind of conversation, and he forced a smile to his lips. “Oh, I don’t doubt that, but if you’re not hacking into his dating account and posting delicious photos of him in a bikini, what’s the point?”

At this, Alex smirked, and Kyle couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride bloom in his chest at being able to bring any kind of smile to the airman’s lips. He had been so miserable ever since…

“The fact that my dad put that kind of task in his hands proves that he knows more than others might,” Alex said, the stance in his shoulders seemingly less tense. “The only question is; how much more?”

Kyle glanced at the tall man – his pale blonde hair and beard streaked with gray, his suit a dark gray, and his dark eyes cold and uncaring as a drunk woman chattered on and on to him – and looked away. “You sure he would’ve brought that drive you told him to?”

Alex nodded. “There are too many missing pieces in the files my dad had in the bunker, and I think a lot of it is owed to how old all the systems are. If Markson thinks he’s giving the drive to one of my brothers, then he would most likely include information that would help us fill in the blanks.”

Kyle frowned. “So we still have to get it off him? How are we going to do that?”

Alex huffed a chuckle. “Would it be enough to ask you to just trust me?”

Kyle shrugged. Alex sounded so sure that Kyle would say no, and he couldn’t help but wonder how often he had been treated like a monster, like an enemy, that he didn’t think even the partner he’d been working with for months, the one he’d confided all his secrets to, would trust him.

“Whatever you say, Manes,” he said, and Alex blinked.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he said, “to be honest, knowing you’re on it kinda makes me feel better.”

Alex stared, his look unreadable, and Kyle raised a brow. “What?”

“Nothing,” Alex finally said. He looked over his shoulder, and back at his glass. Kyle thought his cheeks had turned a soft shade of pink, but when he looked again, the color had faded.

“So,” Kyle took a deep breath, straightening his back, “what’s the plan?”

“Wait for it,” Alex said, then as he took another sip of his drink, the music playing in the large room changed. It had been something classical, elegant, and as Kyle listened, he realized the small band in the center had changed their tune to what sounded like an instrumental version of a Celine Dion song.

“Who’s picking these songs?”

“The guy who owns this place,” Alex said, nudging his chin at the giant, golden-framed portrait on the wall of a very large balding man with a white beard. “I hacked into their program the second the invitations had gone out.”

“So _that’s_ how you got our invitations!” Kyle said, mocking disappointment. “And I thought you said you took a second shift just to buy us a nice evening out together.”

Alex shook his head, though a smile played at his lips. Kyle wanted to smile himself. He didn’t think the alien cowboy who had caused Alex such heartbreak had ever seen him smile. He couldn’t have. How would anyone have seen Alex smile, and still hurt him?

Alex buttoned his tux jacket, glancing subtly at Markson who had begrudgingly taken the woman who had been talking at him and held her as they danced, as everyone else had done with their dates.

“I figured out the music score they’d be using,” Alex said, and straightened his shoulders as if preparing for some great leap.

“The music? What for?”

Alex answered him by holding out an expectant hand. Kyle blinked at it.

“You want me to hold your hand?”

“No, I want you to dance with me,” Alex said, and when Kyle remained still, confused, Alex rolled his eyes and took Kyle’s hand in his, tugging him along. Kyle briefly thought that Alex’s hand was surprisingly warm.

Then he blinked several times and tugged it away. “Are you crazy?”

Alex sighed, the impatience in his voice as he took another glance at Markson’s area evident. “What?”

“It’s a slow song!” he half-whispered, half-yelled.

“Very astute,” Alex said. “Are you coming or not?”

Kyle blushed. “I-I thought the trick was to not draw attention to ourselves!”

“It’s a cocktail party full of visitors from around the world,” Alex said, and gestured to two women in the corner who were practically sucking each other’s earlobes. “No one cares here, Kyle.”

For a second, Kyle thought that Alex sounded almost wistful, as if he envied the women, but then he continued, his voice as firm and military-like as ever. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time to argue about this. Either you come with me, or I’ll do it alone.”

“No!” Kyle said, incredulous. It wasn’t that dancing with a guy scared him, it was that the thought of dancing with _Alex_ did things to his chest that were almost painful. Still, the thought of Alex handling this mission by himself hurt even worse. “I’m not leaving you alone, I’m your partner!” He glanced at Markson himself, took a deep breath, and nodded once. “I’ve got your back no matter what.”

Alex swallowed, his eyes filled once again with that surprised, unreadable look, and he nodded slightly himself, put a hand out for Kyle to take, and Kyle – trying to ignore the violent thrash of his heart against his chest – slipped his hand into Alex’s, surprised at how easily their fingers fit together.

The entire time, Kyle tried to focus on the back of Alex’s head instead of whatever they were about to do, but then he found himself following the messy dark brown strands as they stuck out in different places, both neat and tangled at once, and he wondered how soft Alex’s hair would be if he tried to run his fingers through it. Did Alex know he had some strands that were lighter than others? Like a batch of light and dark chocolate, mixed together –

Kyle walked right into Alex, yanking himself out of his thoughts. Alex turned and looked at him like he was crazy, and without a word, he put Kyle’s hands on his hips, while his own hands went to Kyle’s shoulders. Kyle appreciated being able to hold him the only way he knew how. He tried to imagine Alex’s hands on his waist, then thought of those hands slipping further to his hips, then further – and he shut his eyes tight, ridding himself of the thought completely. This was _so_ _not_ the time for that.

Alex must’ve noticed his expression because Kyle felt the hands on his shoulders tighten. “I know you hate this, but try to suck it up a little longer. It’s almost over.”

“No,” Kyle said before he could help it. “I don’t – that’s not – I-I don’t mind the…” he took a deep breath at Alex’s questioning gaze. “I am perfectly comfortable with my sexuality to dance with my best friend. This isn’t weird, I’m just… nervous about being close to…” he trailed off as Alex’s eyes narrowed. “What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“ _Best friend_? You mean me?”

Kyle stiffened. “I mean, you know, it’s a figure of speech. That’s not to say I don’t like hanging out with you – hell, you’re the only person I really trust, I know that sounds weird, but –”

“It’s not weird,” Alex cut him off, and the rest of Kyle’s words lodged in his throat.

He was suddenly very aware of Alex’s warm fingers on his shoulders, of Alex’s muscle under his own fingers. He unconsciously raised his hands up Alex’s sides and brought them back down to his waist, taking in a shuddering breath as he did. Alex scrunched his shoulders, and this time Kyle was sure the airman’s cheeks had turned a deep shade of pink. There was no other word for it; Alex was _cute_. Kyle resisted the urge to touch him like that again to see his reaction.

“I can’t say it back though,” Alex said, quiet. “I can’t tell you I feel the same way that you do, I can’t…”

Alex, for the first time that night, seemed to struggle with the right words, but Kyle could somehow hear the silent; _I can’t be your best friend yet._

Kyle’s hands tightened on Alex’s waist, and it was at that moment that the ballroom around them, as well as the people – who were getting unusually close – and the band, suddenly vanished. It was just him and Alex now, the music playing softly around them. He didn’t know what song it was, but it must have been very powerful because it pushed Kyle to step closer to Alex, taking a deep breath. He briefly thought that Alex smelled like maple syrup and wood, and that his eyes glittered like he was always crying, golden specs dancing across the dark brown.

“I know you’re trying, Alex,” he said softly, hoping that if Alex took nothing else he said seriously, he listened to _this_. “I know you’re trying your best to forgive me, to get past everything that’s happened to you.”

“Kyle,” Alex said, as if he couldn’t believe he was being spoken to like this, as if he never expected anyone to tell him that he wasn’t broken, that he was trying his hardest, and that that was _enough_.

Kyle held him tighter as they slowly moved left to right, hoping it would somehow keep him safe from anyone that might want to hurt him. He felt a burning anger in that moment, and he knew who it was directed at. “It’s okay, Alex. You’re doing okay.”

Alex came to a stop then, and it hurt Kyle to see that the airman searched his face with utter disbelief, as if he really wanted to believe the doctor’s words, but he just… couldn’t.

“Kyle,” he started, “I –”

But Kyle never got to hear what Alex was going to say because right then, some giggling, drunk man all but fell against Alex, causing something to go wrong with his prosthetic leg and –

“Ah!” Alex fell over, right into – Kyle’s eyes widened – _Markson_. The tall man stumbled as Alex straightened himself, patting down his own suit. “Sorry,” he stammered (to Kyle’s surprise, for Alex never seemed the kind to stammer for any reason), “I-I’m sorry.”

The man tried to glare at Alex, but the woman he had been dancing with was fretting over him, asking him if he was okay in a language, Kyle now realized, he didn’t understand. Not only that, but nearly half the room gathered around, some checking on Alex, though he and Kyle were mostly shoved toward the door as the attention went to Markson and the drunk man who had apparently passed out.

Kyle put a hand on Alex’s back as he turned away from Markson. “Are you okay?” he asked, his arm curling around Alex’s waist protectively as he guided him away from his father’s associate.

Alex said nothing as he leaned over, his hand on his right knee, seemingly in pain. Then, when Kyle got them outside, Alex straightened and sniffed, fixing his bowtie as if nothing had happened.

“I’m fine,” he said without the slightest trace of pain or agitation in his voice at having possibly ruined the mission he had – for the most part – planned.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about Markson,” Kyle tried, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one had followed them out. No one had. “We’ll figure something else out. Let’s just back to the hospital, and I’ll – I’ll examine your prosthetic –”

“That won’t be necessary,” Alex said swiftly, and Kyle was starting to think he was right as he hurried in front of Kyle to his black car parked in the front.

“Alex, I get you’re upset about the mission failing,” Kyle said as he climbed into the passenger’s seat while Alex got in to drive, “but if you’re hurt, I need to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Kyle,” Alex shook his head as he started the car, and Kyle was shocked to see him smile, amused, “the mission didn’t fail.”

“What do you mean?” Kyle blinked. “We didn’t do anything.”

“Wrong,” Alex said, pulling out of the parking lot and out the large front gates of the property, “you did exactly as I asked you.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a USB drive, tossing it to a wide-eyed Kyle. “You trusted me.”

Kyle stared at it a moment. “H-How –” and he cut himself off, realization dawning. “You pickpocketed him when you tripped. Your leg never hurt at all, did it?” Alex smirked, and Kyle was beginning a smile as well until –

“Wait, what about Markson? What if he saw our faces?”

“He didn’t,” Alex said confidently. “You know that Greek woman he was speaking to? Old military friend of mine. I called in a favor, and she came.”

Kyle shook his head, his eyes wide, his brows furrowed. “She was working with you.”

Alex laughed. “Kyle, _half_ those people in that ballroom were working with me. The couples surrounding us while we danced, a member of the band, the bartender – this is my _dad_ we’re talking about, and after Caulfield…” his smile faded, and Kyle noticed his hands tighten around the steering wheel. “I wouldn’t have left anything tonight up to chance. Not when you were at risk,” he finished quietly, all traces of humor in his voice and expression gone. “They kept Markson from seeing our faces, it was priority number one, and these people are good at their jobs. So don’t worry.”

Kyle stared a moment, trying to process everything he had heard, then he said in a voice barely over a whisper, the USB drive smooth and sharp in his fingers. “You’re such a _badass_.”

Alex’s eyes widened slightly, startled, and he burst out into laughter. “Let’s not push it. It was standard procedure for any op,” he said. “Anyone could’ve done it.”

Alex checked his mirror before he made a turn, and Kyle watched him for a moment before his eyes fell to the drive in his hand. His fingers tightened on it, and he knew there was something he had to do before the night was over.

Kyle didn’t know how long he had been waiting outside Michael Guerin’s trailer. Time had seemed to freeze as he leaned against the airstream, one foot crossed over the other as he ran over in his head exactly what he would say. He had been so sure that he needed to talk to Michael when Alex had dropped him off at his home, having not even bothered to change out of his tux, but when Kyle had parked, he had realized that he didn’t even know where to start. After all, this wasn’t his place. Alex couldn’t even really call him a close friend, and yet here he was, about to interfere in the airman’s relationship.

Then Michael suddenly stepped out of his trailer, shrugging his jacket on – probably to go meet Maria, Kyle bitterly noted – and he realized that while Alex had been reluctant to accept Kyle back into his life, Kyle considered Alex a part of himself, one he would never give away again.

Because of that, Kyle knew there was only one thing _to_ say.

“You shouldn’t have broken him,” he said, and Michael whipped around.

His eyes narrowed for a moment at Kyle, as if he didn’t really believe the doctor was there, then he said, “ _Valenti_? What’re you doing here?”

Kyle straightened and slowly made his way to Michael. Despite what Michael did and said, Kyle knew that the cowboy wouldn’t hurt him. Because if he did, Alex would never look at him the same way again, and Michael wouldn’t be able to take that. One shift in how Alex saw him was more than enough. Kyle knew that from experience.

“You shouldn’t have broken him,” he repeated. “ _Alex_ , Guerin, I’m talking about Alex.” He tilted his head. “Forgotten about him already?”

Michael’s expression hardened. “You came here to talk to me about A…” he cleared his throat. “About _him_?”

“Shouldn’t have taken me this long, I know,” he shrugged. “I guess I just never realized the kind of damage you did to him till tonight.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Kyle stared long and hard, trying to keep his voice steady as he said, “You know Alex hates himself, right?” Michael blinked, his brows furrowed, his frown deepening. “He thinks he’s evil.”

Michael looked away, pursing his lips, but Kyle went on. “He doesn’t know how to take a complement. Try telling him he’s clever, you know what he’ll do? He’ll think you’re lying to his face. Try telling him he’s strong, and he’ll hate you for making fun of him. Try telling him he’s beautiful…” Kyle trailed off at the way Michael suddenly looked at him, as if to ask, _‘When have_ you _been telling Alex he’s beautiful?’_

Kyle huffed a humorless chuckle. “He talks about himself like he’s a broken toy that you saw and hated and threw away. He thinks…” he took a deep breath, “he thinks he doesn’t _deserve_ love. _You_ did that to him.”

Michael clenched his jaw and stepped back, placing his hands in his jacket pockets, but not before Kyle saw them ball into fists. “You’re out of your mind, Valenti. I haven’t even seen… I haven’t even seen him in months.”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t even say his name, can you?”

“Get off my property,” Michael said through grit teeth. “I don’t want to _hear_ his name, and I don’t need to hear you defending him either. What’s it my fault if he’s too weak? He’s always let others get to him, I’m supposed to be the bad guy for wanting something more than that?”

Kyle shook his head, his mind filled with disbelief. He felt at that moment that maybe he should punch Michael, scream at him that Alex had done everything he ever could, that none of it was _ever_ enough because Michael didn’t _want_ it to be enough. But all Kyle could really feel… was pity. Michael was miserable, that much was obvious. He missed Alex like Kyle could only imagine he did, and it was fear of losing Alex that had forced him to push Alex away in the first place. But Michael was always pushing Alex away. Kyle thought the airman deserved someone who knew he was worth the risk of heartbreak. And Michael wasn’t it.

He put his hands in his pockets and sighed, his voice soft – surprising even himself – as he said, “You don’t deserve him. Maybe you did once, a long time ago, but not anymore.”

Michael looked as if Kyle had just killed his brother or sister – like he had waited for the worst from the doctor, but never thought he would actually do anything so cruel. Kyle might’ve felt bad if he didn’t remember the shock on Alex’s face when he had told him he trusted him. Like even Michael had never given him that much.

He walked past the cowboy, got into his car, and drove away, Michael still standing frozen to his spot.


	19. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael gets drunk after having proposed to Alex.

It was far past midnight when Isobel finally got the call from Maria that Michael was passed out drunk in her bar, and Isobel had rushed out of her room, barely having managed to put her shoes on, before she was in her car, breaking every speed limit to get to her brother.

When she got there, Maria had been by the door. Isobel tried not to think that the psychic had been waiting for her, and instead gave her a mere nod as she hurried inside. She was unsurprised to find Max, leaning against the bar beside Michael, his arms crossed as he looked at Michael with what appeared to be an amused smile.

Isobel glanced at Maria who had been watching her, and – with heated cheeks – turned away and hurried to her brothers’ side.

“What happened?” she put her hand under Michael’s chin, lifting his head up, her other hand lightly slapping his cheeks as his eyelids lay halfway open. “Why’d you drink so much?”

Michael groaned, wrapping an arm around Isobel’s waist and pulling her close, his head against her stomach.

“He proposed to Alex,” Max said, his voice fond. “Did _you_ know he was going to propose?”

“He _proposed_?” Isobel blinked. “No, I mean, I –” she looked down at Michael, then put an arm around his head, as if to hug him, but she actually just covered his exposed ear and said, her voice quieter, “he told me something about wanting to marry Alex _someday_ , but I didn’t think he meant –” she broke off with a gasp. “Wait, did Alex say no? Is that why he’s like this?”

Isobel couldn’t deny she was shocked. After all, she had caught Alex staring at Michael when he had thought no one was looking multiple times, the look in his eyes filled with a kind of fairytale love that she only wished she could experience. Her eyes caught Maria’s and she looked away.

_But no_ , she thought. Max wouldn’t look as pleased as he did if Alex had said no. Michael would’ve been crushed, and Max hated nothing more than his brother being upset.

“Mm,” Michael hummed and leaned back, blinking lazily up at his sister. “Isobel! When’d you get here?”

“You proposed?” she asked, ignoring his question. “ _When_?”

“Tonight,” he said, and held a glass up which – Isobel could see – Maria had filled with iced water. Michael took a big gulp and hissed as if it burned him, but Isobel supposed he was just too drunk to notice the difference anymore. “I told him I wanted to marry him,” he nodded. “I told him I loved him. I told him I couldn’t and wouldn’t – _wouldn’t_!” he pointed at Max, though seemed too dizzy to hold his brother’s gaze, “told him I wouldn’t live without him. Because I love him. Because I want to marry him. So I proposed. I asked him if he’d marry me.”

“And he said _no_?” Isobel’s eyes were wide, her tone incredulous. She could count on her hand the number of times Michael had said he’d loved anyone, and they were almost always about Alex. She had gotten used to having Michael brush off their emotional moments, to give her a smirk in lieu of a smile, to express his love for her and their brother with a simple touch to the shoulder or arm. But he _loved_ Alex. He loved him like Isobel had admittedly never thought him capable of loving anyone.

“No,” Max chuckled, rubbing his jaw, “No, he said yes. See?” He reached and tugged up something Michael wore on a chain around his neck. Isobel gasped when she saw that it was a silver band. An engagement ring.

“ _No_!” Isobel said, a smile starting on her lips. “Really? Michael, this is…” she trailed off, then her face fell. “Wait, then why are you here? Why aren’t you with Alex?”

“Alex,” Michael muttered, and he took another big gulp of his water. “He’s hot, isn’t he? He’s even hot when he’s sleeping, all rosy-cheeked and soft.” Michael’s shoulders slumped as he lowered his glass from his lips, his voice quieter, “I left. He was asleep, and I left. I didn’t wanna wake him.” Then, as an afterthought, Michael added, “He’s even hotter when he’s awake though.”

Isobel glanced at Max who shrugged as if to say, _‘You won’t believe it_ ,’ and took a seat on the stool beside Michael’s. “Why’d you leave? Don’t you want to be with Alex?”

“I want to be with Alex,” Michael said. “I want to be with Alex more than I want to breathe. I want to be with Alex more than I want… I want to be with Alex more than I want anything. Yes, I want to be with Alex.”

“Then?”

“Then…” he took a deep breath and said, “I’m no good.”

Isobel’s brows furrowed and she looked to Maria, but the bartender had held her gaze for all of two seconds before ducking out, giving them their privacy. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I only want to marry Alex,” he said. “I want to be with Alex forever. But when he said yes, I realized… I’m screwed up. What if I hurt him? And then I felt guilty for being happy. And I saw him sleeping next to me – naked, of course, he so hot when he’s naked – and I felt… bad. I felt like I was throwing away his chance to be with someone… fixed.” He inhaled a shaky breath and said, “Then I came here and I drank a crap ton of these,” he held up his cup of water, “and I stopped feeling that way.”

He smiled, but Isobel knew he was lying. His eyes were too puffy, his fingers trembling too much, his looks too dazed and lost and _frightened_ for her to believe that he had fixed his fears with alcohol. It was weird, she partly thought. One thing drinking couldn’t help Michael erase, and that was how much he cared about Alex.

She opened her mouth to say something, to tell Michael that that just wasn’t true, that Alex didn’t _want_ anybody else, that he would never have said yes if Michael didn’t make him so happy – but the words got caught in her throat as her eyes went to the door, and caught a panting Alex Manes, a coat loosely thrown over his sweatpants and Air Force t-shirt.

He glanced at Isobel only for a second before he settled on Michael who was too busy gulping down his iced water to notice that anyone else had come in.

“Is – uh – that why you won’t wear your engagement ring?” Max asked, and Isobel tore her eyes away from Alex to look at her brother who was holding up his phone in answer of Isobel’s silent question. _I called him_ , she could almost hear him say, and knew that her brother was right. Alex should’ve been the first to have been notified, but Isobel supposed Maria had worried about him too much to tell him. What would he think if Michael was here, getting blacked out drunk, the _night_ that they had gotten engaged? Isobel’s eyes fell to something twinkling off Alex’s finger, and realized it was his engagement ring.

As if hearing her thoughts, Max asked again, “Is that why you don’t wear it, Michael?” He tilted his head, running his fingers through Michael’s curls. Isobel recognized it as something he did whenever Michael had zoned out, and he was patiently trying to get the cowboy’s attention back. “You’re scared if you do, it’ll mean you can’t back out anymore?”

Michael nodded, making a small noise of agreement in the back of his throat, and Isobel looked to Alex for his reaction. As she might’ve expected, he looked hurt, his brows furrowed while his hand cradled his right, where the ring sat on his ring finger, but he didn’t seem surprised. It was as if he knew Michael might regret the proposal and had been waiting for something to backfire. So Isobel was right. He did love Michael just as much as Michael loved him.

“How could you say that?” she snapped. “There’s nothing wrong with you, and Alex knows that. How can you think you’re too broken for him?”

Alex’s frown deepened, confused, and he slowly came to stand behind Michael.

“Too broken?” Alex asked, but Michael closed his eyes, his cheeks a dark red from all he had had to drink.

“I hear his voice all the time, I can even hear him now,” Michael said. “Like he’s actually here.” He rubbed his face, as if part of him was trying to sober up. “Imagine if he was. He’d hate me.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Max sighed, his smile soft and fond. “You’re worried that you’re somehow going to _infect_ Alex with your flaws, like you’re going to ruin his life, but he doesn’t think of you that way.” Max looked directly at Alex, his look just as fond while Alex’s eyes stayed on Michael. “You’re perfect to him, Michael. He just wants you.”

Alex took a deep, shaky breath, his eyes glistening as his fingers reached out to softly curl against Michael’s back, and right then, Isobel couldn’t help it. She had always felt a fondness for Alex Manes, but now she felt a love blooming in her chest alongside it for the codebreaker, the man who had spent so long protecting her family, the one who stayed in the shadow of the Manes legacy just to keep Michael safe, the one who had went to war, come back, and seen nothing but beauty in Michael. She put a hand on his arm, hoping he could somehow hear the silent gratitude beating in her heart for him.

“Me,” Michael scoffed, though with no real venom. His body seemed to ease with Alex’s touch, evening leaning back towards the airman unconsciously as if it recognized him. “What a mess. _Me_ is a raging storm waiting to happen, I can _feel_ it.” He rubbed his face again with one hand, spilling water from the glass in the other. “Every time I’m with him, I just wanna – I just wanna touch him. All the time. I want to feel him, and I feel like I’ll explode if I don’t. And then…” he sighed, his eyes fluttering shut as the corners of his lips quirked upward slightly. “And then, at the same time, I just wanna look at him. It makes me feel better, like I can – I don’t know – like I can _breathe_ better. Like I can breathe.” He shook his head. “What if all that stuff crashes together? What if I end up losing control? What if I – what if I hurt Alex?”

Alex came closer, ducking his head as a tear rolled down his nose and fell, like a small crystal, a soft smile at his lips that looked so full of love and fondness and admiration and sorrow, and Isobel understood now what Michael meant when he said that Alex was beautiful. The man was like a painting of light, every part of him glowing brighter and warmer and more colorful just for Michael. Isobel saw Max glance at Alex, and back at her, his smile mirroring hers. She could see why her brother didn’t seem as worried about Michael as she had initially been.

“Hurt Alex,” Max shook his head, his smile widening before he leaned into his brother. “Michael, that tornado inside you, the one you feel is about to tear you apart, but you don’t care – that’s you loving Alex so much that you don’t even know what to do with yourself. You’re not a monster that’s going out of control. You’re just Alex’s.”

After a moment, Michael shook his head, his lips turned to a soft smile as he stared off into space. “Alex’s. I’ve always been Alex’s. Always.”

Isobel’s smile widened as well, and she put one hand to Alex’s cheek, wiping his tear away before she sniffed, unhooking Michael’s engagement ring from the chain around his neck. “You’re engaged now. Where do you think this is supposed to go?”

Without a word, Michael let her slide the ring onto his finger while Max held a tight grip on his wrist, keeping his hand steady.

When it was done, Max placed a comforting hand on Alex’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t have snuck out,” he said jokingly, winking at Alex. “Alex must be really worried by now.”

“Alex,” Michael hummed, seemingly content with saying his fiancé’s name on his lips, then he blinked. “Alex! I need to – I need to get back to him. I need to tell him I love him.”

Isobel watched as Alex wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and then wrapped his arms around Michael’s shoulders, his forehead pressed against Michael’s back. As Michael slowly reached a hand up to the ones holding onto him, his brows furrowing in recognition, Isobel leaned her elbow on the table, and sighed.

“I think he knows.”


	20. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's friend gets hurt, and Michael makes a few confessions.

The second Michael had seen Isaac Scott, he had decided he hated him. It might’ve had something to do with the fact that Alex was fond of him, but Michael would never say. Michael still remembered his voice as he’d come to stand behind Alex – who was adamant on ignoring Michael’s presence – and said, “Captain Manes.” He remembered the way Alex’s eyes had lit up with instant recognition and turned on his stool at the bar, how his lips had broken into a wide, happy smile, happier than Michael had ever seen him. He remembered the way the airman had all but jumped out of his seat – as best as he was able with his leg – and wrapped his arms around his ready soldier buddy who hugged him back, his arms tight – a little _too_ tight, Michael thought bitterly – around Alex’s waist as he practically lifted him off the ground, his face buried in the airman’s shoulder.

Michael remembered the way Scott’s eyes had fluttered shut as he inhaled Alex’s scent, the way he’d kept his hand on Alex’s waist when Alex briefly introduced him to Maria and Liz before taking him to a separate and quiet table, the way Scott had leaned into him, brushing Alex’s hair from his face as if the intimate gesture was something common between them.

And Michael had _hated_ him instantly. He’d hated him when he told Alex, “Your hair’s gotten longer,” in that soft way Michael had imagined so many times doing himself when Alex’s bangs fell over his eyes, he’d hated him when Alex smiled at him with twinkling eyes as if he was the one source of joy and kindness and love that the airman had, and he’d hated him when he and Alex recounted to each other all their military experiences as if Alex had never had a life here in Roswell, as if _those_ experiences didn’t matter, as if this Scott guy knew Alex through and through just because he’d known him as soldier.

Michael hated him, it was true, but seeing Scott tied up to tubes and IV strips on a hospital bed did not bring Michael the slightest sense of satisfaction. And seeing Alex sit in the chair beside his bed, his face in his hands, his good leg tapping the floor anxiously – that nearly killed.

Michael glanced at Kyle as he gave Liz, Maria, Max, and Isobel all the details of his injury. He had ran in to the attack – not knowing what was wrong, only that Alex had needed him – saw his friend about to be hit with something that looked a tentacled- _thing_ , and jumped in the way. Michael’s eyes fell on the unconscious man. _He was so stupid_ , Michael thought. He thought he knew Alex so well, but didn’t he know that the airman could look after himself?

And still, Michael could hold no venom in his heart. In actuality, he had screamed Alex’s name just before the attack, desperate to protect him – whether he had needed saving or not didn’t matter – and instead, Scott had gotten to him first. He had fallen, Alex had held him, then a kind of anger, the likes of which Michael had never seen, flashed in his eyes, and he held his gun up, singlehandedly destroying the alien monster. Everyone started to crowd him, to ask if he was alright, but Alex was already calling an ambulance, barking orders down the line. Then, in a military voice that Michael still could not believe Alex Manes had, he ordered half the group to clear the alien away, as well as any trace of it, and the others to help him get Scott outside. Michael had never seen him do so much for one person.

“Hey,” Michael nudged Alex’s arm lightly as he pulled up a chair to sit next to him.

Alex glanced at him, his chin resting on his palms now. “Hey,” he said tiredly. He had been waiting for two days by Scott’s side, never leaving unless the doctor insisted, and in that time, any anger or resentment he had had for Michael had vanished. Michael couldn’t help wondering if that was a good or bad thing.

“How you doing?”

Alex said nothing for a moment, then, “He could’ve lost the use of his legs.”

“But he didn’t. He’s going to be fine, Alex.”

Alex shook his head, as if to say that Michael didn’t understand. Michael glanced at Alex’s leg, knowing there was a prosthetic hidden behind his jeans. Maybe he really didn’t.

“There’s nothing worse than losing a limb,” Alex sighed. “What an idiot.”

Michael didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing at all. Instead, he tentatively reached up and lightly touched Alex’s hair, encouraged to slip his fingers through the soft locks when Alex closed his eyes, unmoving.

The dark circles around Alex’s eyes had grown darker since last night when Michael had seen him, his fingers trembling, though whether from cold, starvation, or something else, Michael didn’t know, and his eyes had lost their spark, the brown surrounding his irises looking cold and lifeless.

He brought his hand down the nape of Alex’s neck and around his shoulders, tugging slightly. “Alex, you need to eat.”

Alex swallowed, shaking his head. “I can’t – I can’t just leave him.”

Michael stared, then sighed. Why did Alex’s concern for Scott bother him so much? He had all the right to be worried. Michael himself couldn’t help but be grateful to Scott for what he did, and when he’d found out the soldier could’ve been paralyzed, he felt a sharp pain in his chest for Alex’s sake.

Michael took a deep breath, nudging him along. “You’re not leaving him. It’s just the cafeteria downstairs, we’ll still be in the hospital. Come on, Private, you’re no good to anyone half-dead.”

Alex seemed to hesitate, and Michael took the opportunity to pull him to his feet. “Come on.”

He gently pushed him past the others, Kyle clasping him comfortingly on the shoulder to which Michael couldn’t even glare. Michael had directed Alex to take a seat while he piled on as much food on one tray as he could.

When he came back, he found the airman slumped in his seat, nodding off to sleep. He tried to be quiet as he set the tray down, but as soon as the food touched the table, Alex woke with a start.

“Great,” Michael couldn’t help but say as he set a bottle of water in front of Alex, then one of the sandwiches. “I guess sleep is next on the list.”

“I’m okay,” Alex shook his head, and took a sip of the water. “Thanks.”

Michael watched him for a moment, silent. For the longest time, he had thought of Alex as someone who was holding the reigns, the one in charge, the leader who knew how to save everyone, every time. Then there were moments, moments like these, when Michael realized how tired Alex was. He wasn’t just a leader, he was a boy who had been turned into a man too soon into his life, and in the darkest ways possible. He was someone who endured beatings and mind games and taunting every day, but still managed to take the world on his shoulders and look after everyone else.

Michael had always thought of himself as someone who needed to be alone to survive, to push others away so that he could breathe better. He never thought of it much before, but maybe Alex was the kind of guy who needed to take care of others to feel whole, to be more at peace. Maybe it was just what he was used to because he never had the freedom of being alone. There was always someone who needed him, always someone whose reputation or happiness or safety depended on him, and Michael couldn’t help but wonder exactly how long Alex had been so exhausted.

Michael eyes burned as he realized that while he had always considered Alex the one person he wanted beside him, the person he needed, Alex had wanted him beside him for a different reason. To Alex, Michael was just one more person who needed protection. Michael couldn’t be someone to save him, but he was someone who just needed saving himself. The thought left an empty, guilty feeling in his stomach as he thought of Alex waiting outside his airstream for hours, only to be stood up. How he must’ve thought that he had finally found someone he could count on, only to realize that Michael would never be anything more than someone else he had to take care of, but not believe in to care of him back.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Alex said, his attention on his sandwich. He sounded, despite the obvious fatigue on his face, completely calm, as if he knew of Michael’s inner turmoil and wanted to help anyway he could, though he may have lacked the energy. Michael’s hands clenched to fists under the table as he forced a smile on his face. Alex was always helping.

“Like what?”

“Like you pity me,” Alex said, shaking his head. “I hate that look.”

Michael’s smile turned small and bitter. “Maybe I’m just annoyed. And maybe annoyed looks a lot like pity.”

“Because those two things are inextricable?” Alex smirked, glancing up as he started unwrapping another sandwich. Michael was glad to see him have an appetite. He had been worried he would have to force-feed him. “You can’t be annoyed with yourself without pitying me, so stop both.”

He raised a brow. “How do you know I’m annoyed with myself?”

Alex shrugged a shoulder as if it was obvious, his cheek filled with food, and Michael had to bite down the urge to lean across the table and kiss it. “Because you’re never annoyed with me, for whatever reason. Kyle’s not here, so you can’t be annoyed with him, or Max or Isobel. You’re the only one left.” He swallowed and sighed. “And you’ve been staring at me since you sat down, so you’re annoyed with yourself for something you did to me. And to be annoyed with that, you’d have to pity me.”

Michael made a face, then, without thought, reached over and cleaned the crumbs off Alex’s lower lip with his thumb. “I hate how smart you are.”

“And I hate being stared at like some tragedy exhibit,” Alex said simply, finishing his sandwich and uncapping the water bottle. “I’m serious, Guerin, knock it off.”

Michael scoffed, though he couldn’t deny his heart thrashing in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time Alex had said more than two words to him, words that weren’t laced with disgust or anger. “You sound annoyed. And here I thought you were never annoyed with me either.”

“I’m annoyed with you all the time,” Alex said, though there was no malice in his tone.

“So the way I _look_ at you annoys you now?”

Alex closed the water bottle. “I can take pity from anyone but you. You would,” he exhaled shortly as if he was too busy searching for the right words to remember to breathe, “you would break me.”

Michael went silent, his shoulders slumped, any trace of humor gone from his lips. Alex smiled softly. “You’re doing it again.”

Michael shook his head. It wasn’t pity, he thought. Not pity that he felt when he looked at Alex. It was something else. Something deeper than that, something harder to explain.

“I’m only looking at you because I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he said, and Alex’s face fell, his eyes wide. Then, with a small upward quirk of his lips, Michael said, “I thought you could read me better than that, Private.”

Alex said nothing as he abruptly stood and left the cafeteria, leaving a stunned Michael to hurry out of his seat and after him. “Wait, wait, I…” he caught up to the airman in the hall and grabbed his arm. “Did I – Alex, I-I didn’t mean to –”

“I can’t forgive you,” he said, cutting Michael off, though he refused to look at him. “I can’t forgive what you did, Guerin, I can’t. I can’t forget that you chose someone else.”

Michael stared, feeling like his entire world had just come to a standstill. He stared at Alex, hoping the airman would just glance at him, just once, but Alex closed his eyes and turned away.

“So you do hate me,” Michael’s hand fell to his side. He really was stupid to think that just because of a few moments of kindness, Alex would suddenly take him back and forget everything that had happened. In the end, he really couldn’t be someone that could save the airman.

“Of course, I don’t hate you,” Alex said, though it offered little comfort now. No matter what, he still wouldn’t look at Michael. Hate or no hate, that wouldn’t change. “I just – I can’t do this while one of my best friends is upstairs, strung up to a bed.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “I have to go.”

“I’ll come with you,” he said, and this time, when Alex said nothing, Michael felt less hopeful. Alex was devastated for his friend, _that_ was why he was letting Michael near him. It was ironic, Michael thought, that the person he had hated was the reason Alex was talking to him at all.

When Alex had returned to his place by Scott’s side, and Michael by Alex’s, he couldn’t help but lean back in his chair and watch the airman. He looked a little better with the food in his system, his eyes a little brighter, but there was still that tension in his shoulders, that permanent frown etched into his face, that furrow in his brows that said he had too much guilt and grief on his mind.

He put his hand near Alex’s, and Alex thoughtlessly took Michael’s fingers, squeezing tightly. _Fine_ , Michael thought, his mind and heart conflicted. If he couldn’t be Alex’s hero, he would be his stand-in. He would hold his hand and bring him food and insist he sleep. He would pat his back, and press his forehead against Alex’s without moving any further than that.

His hold on Alex’s hand tightened, and though Alex didn’t look at him, Michael swore that this time he wouldn’t let go.


	21. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex teaches Michael how to play baseball.

“You are a _grown man_ ,” Alex said, his tone colored with laughter. “How do you not know how to hit a baseball?”

Michael pretended to be annoyed as he readied his stance among the abandoned balls at his feet, holding the bat up, but as Alex leaned against his own bat, the sun shining around him as it set, turning the tips of his hair to gold and making his eyes and wide smile somehow brighter and more beautiful, Michael knew he didn’t really mind the teasing at his expense.

“Right,” he panted, pushing his damp hair back. “Sure, ‘cause that’s a useful skill. Really gonna need that later in life.”

Alex laughed, and Michael couldn’t help but smile. “It _is_ useful! Do you have any idea how therapeutic it is to just swing at something and hit it out of the field?”

Michael’s shoulders slumped, his head tilted. “You had me, then you lost me.”

Alex sighed, his hand on his hip. “If you didn’t look so good in that sweaty shirt, I would’ve given up teaching you by now, just so you’re aware.”

Michael scoffed, though if anyone asked if he had puffed his chest out at that moment, glad to give Alex a view of his soaked skin through his now damp, white t-shirt, he would deny it. “Teaching me? If you were really teaching me, Private, you’d be standing behind me right now.”

Alex rubbed his face, though Michael saw his smile widen. “Behind you?”

“Yeah,” Michael said like it was obvious. “You know, your hands on my arms, holding me, showing me just how to swing.”

“Showing you how to swing.”

“Preferably with your shirt off,” Michael said. “I’ll take mine off, too, if that’ll make you more comfortable.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex sighed, and set his own bat against the table before he slowly came up behind Michael. Michael bit his lower lip as Alex lightly touched his shoulders, exhaling softly as the airman’s hands slid down the cowboy’s arms. “Is this what you had in mind?”

Michael’s eyes fluttered shut, his mind whirling as Alex lightly guided his arms back, the bat in hand. “Hold on tight,” he whispered against Michael’s ear, and Michael licked his lips, slowly opening his eyes to see the sun reflecting off the bat, the rays shining across as if directing him. Maybe he had been wrong, maybe learning how to swing _was_ important.

“Are you paying attention?” Alex asked, and Michael couldn’t help but lean back, turning his head so that his lips brushed the corner of Alex’s. That’s when he realized, it wasn’t the swing that made his heart race, the sunshine that sent jolts of electricity up and down his body. It was Alex.

The feeling of the airman’s chest against his back, the way Michael could feel him breathing against him, the way his fingers lightly ran down Michael’s arms to his wrist as if he was delicate, then the way they tightened around his waist as if he knew him to be stronger if that was the way he needed him. And Michael _would be anything_ Alex needed him to be.

“And swing,” Alex said, guiding Michael’s arms as the pitching machine threw out another ball. Michael did as he was told, and felt the vibration of the bat in his hand as the ball hit the wood and shot far across the desert plane. “Look at that,” he said, his hands sliding down to Michael’s hips, “and you didn’t even use your powers this time.”

Michael turned his head to watch Alex, his brown eyes shining as they followed the ball. He felt himself lowering the bat as he stared. _Did Alex know he had specs of gold in his eyes sometimes?_ Michael hoped no one else had ever gotten to see them. Something about Michael being the only one to have that effect on him warmed his heart.

He brought his hand up to hold Alex’s jaw, his thumb softly brushing his cheek. “Did you offer to teach me batting practice just so you would have an excuse to touch me?”

Alex’s smile widened and he shook his head, as if to remind Michael that _he_ was the one who had told him to come and stand behind him.

“Yeah,” he said, covering Michael’s hand with his own. “Absolutely.”

And Michael couldn’t help but remember a year ago – though it seemed so much longer ago now – that Alex had asked him if he was cooking meth in his trailer, and he had given that exact answer.

_“Yeah. Absolutely.”_

He had feigned annoyance and tried sarcasm, but even then, his heart had jumped the moment Alex had approached him, had spoken to him, had stopped him to take his wrist. Even then, Michael wished he could hold onto him, ask him where he had been, check him for any more injuries, and beg him never to leave again.

The thought that he had almost lost Alex in the time that followed made Michael turn in Alex’s hold, take the airman’s face in his hands, and kiss him, the bat clattering to the ground among the discarded baseballs around him.

Alex made a startled noise in the back of his throat and chuckled as Michael moved back, though his hands stayed at Michael’s waist. “You’re relentless.”

“Gotta love me,” Michael said with a shrug.

Alex’s expression softened, his hand coming up to move a curl out of the cowboy’s face. “I do.”

Michael’s heart hammered in his chest, and he surged forward, capturing Alex’s lips in his, the two spending what felt like hours just devouring each other’s mouths. Michael pulled back to breathe, and as he did, he tugged at the hem of Alex’s shirt.

“Take it off, come on, take it…” he trailed off, unable to even finish the sentence as he pressed another kiss to Alex’s lips, imagining the airman’s hands on him, his nails clawing down his back.

“We reek,” Alex laughed breathlessly, pulling back, though Michael followed him. “How are we supposed to do anything when we both smell like sweat?”

Michael smiled as he slipped his hands under Alex’s shirt, making Alex gasp. “Don’t worry, Private,” he whispered, tugging at Alex’s lower lip with his teeth. “I’ll show you.”


	22. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle notices something is wrong with Alex.

Something was very wrong with Alex. Kyle looked around the Crashdown Café, wondering if anyone else had noticed, but Liz and Max who were seated on one side of a booth were still conversing with Isobel and Michael who were on the other. When they had walked in, there was a seat next to Michael, and Kyle could almost see the expectant but nervous way the cowboy had watched Alex, as if waiting for him to take a seat next to him. Alex though, without a second’s thought or hesitation, slipped into the adjacent table, and glanced up at Kyle as if he hoped he would sit beside him instead.

Kyle had, but Alex was well within everyone’s view, so how none of them had noticed him fidgeting since he’d sat down, how none of them had noticed his drooping eyelids – an indication that Alex hadn’t slept in who-knew-how-long – his red-rimmed eyes, or the way his fingers twitched – it was beyond Kyle’s comprehension.

_Something was very,_ very _wrong with Alex._

“Alex,” Kyle tried, his voice barely above a whisper. He lightly touched the airman’s arm, but it was as if no one had touched him at all. He kept staring off into space, still fidgeting in his seat. Kyle followed his gaze, but whatever was haunting Alex, Kyle couldn’t see it.

Kyle looked back at the booth, hoping someone had noticed. He didn’t want to blurt out that something was bothering Alex – the airman was always silent and secretive in everything, especially the way he felt – but he had hoped someone would take notice that he wasn’t speaking, that he wasn’t paying attention at all. No one did.

“Noah said that the invasion on your kind started the second they landed,” Liz was saying. “The government must’ve sensed them coming somehow.”

“But then how did we escape?” Michael asked.

“Why weren’t our pods broken? You think our families were just richer or something?” Max said.

“Maybe we’re royalty,” Isobel suggested with a shrug of her shoulder.

“That’s so weird,” Liz said, glancing at Max. “I don’t even know what to think of that.”

“Guys,” Kyle tried subtly, but they were all so immersed in their conversation that they wouldn’t listen.

He turned back to Alex, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Alex –”

Alex gasped, blinking out of his haze. He looked to Kyle as if just realizing he was there. He said nothing, gave nothing away, always waiting for the other person to speak first. He told Kyle of his conversations with Michael, and Kyle couldn’t help but wonder if Michael knew how lucky he was; to be the only person Alex wanted to share so much of himself with.

He glanced at the cowboy and found him studiously avoiding Alex’s direction, and realized that he definitely didn’t.

“Alex, are you okay?” he leaned in close, hoping Alex could hear him even a little.

Alex blinked at Kyle like he didn’t know him. “Yeah,” he said, barely moving his lips. “I’m fine.” 

“Alex –”

“I’m fine, Kyle,” he repeated, his voice firmer, though his eyes seemed to have caught whatever had spooked him in the first place.

Kyle glanced at Michael. _How?_ How could he not notice that Alex was so troubled? That there was something wrong?

“What is it?” he asked instead, because he knew that asking if the airman was okay would give him no honest answer. “What do you see?”

Alex shook his head a moment, as if about to tell him that he saw nothing, but Kyle gripped his shoulder tighter, and he hesitated.

“My dad,” Alex whispered. “I keep seeing my dad.”

“What?” Kyle narrowed his eyes where Alex was looking. “Now?”

“It’s been following me since Caulfield,” Alex said. “This… _whatever-it-is_ that’s happening to me. He’s staring at me… and he has his gun, and he keeps pulling the trigger.”

“At what?”

“The wall,” Alex said. “Just the wall.”

Kyle blinked. “That’s why you keep flinching,” he said, realization dawning. “You can hear the gunshots.”

Alex swallowed, and for a moment, Kyle thought he would go back to his silence, then a tear rolled down his cheek, and he quietly said –

“I always hear the gunshots.”

Right then, he flinched, covering his ears, though his eyes remained on that spot in the wall.

“Guys,” Kyle tried to get the others’ attention again, his own eyes on Alex, though no one heard him. Kyle clenched his jaw, remembering the way Alex had comforted him time and time again, reassuring him that Jim Valenti was a good person, as if he could read his concerned thoughts. Alex always knew when something was bothering Kyle and always managed to stomp it out. He always knew just what to say, and Kyle hadn’t even noticed that Alex hadn’t been really speaking since that night after Caulfield when he had found Jesse was the one who had pushed Jim to his death. How had he not noticed?

“Alex,” he tried, “I get it, it’s too much. Caulfield, then… our dads, then what Guerin said to you, but you _have_ to snap out of it. It’s all in your head, nothing you see is real.”

Alex shook his head, his hands pressing harder against his ears. “I’m fine, I don’t – I’m fine, please just stop talking to me.”

Kyle stared harder at the place Alex was watching, hoping to see some flicker of light, some shadow, any kind of movement to reassure himself that after everything Alex had endured, it hadn’t costed him his mind.

“Alex,” he brought his voice down to a whisper, then glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone had noticed Alex’s state yet, but they hadn’t. Kyle wanted to snap, to tell them to “Pay some goddamn attention!” but he knew it would only make things worse for Alex now.

“Listen to me,” he said. “I’m right here, okay? Whatever you see, ignore it. Here,” he took Alex’s hand in his, one arm wrapped around his shoulder, “hold onto me. Squeeze as hard as you need to. Alex, look at me, I’m right here.”

But Alex’s fingers were still trembling in Kyle’s. He slowly brought his hand down from his other ear and turned to look at Kyle, and for a second, as his eyes softened, Kyle thought he was finally get through to him. Then they glanced to the wall and stuck there, widening in horror.

“No,” he whispered.

Kyle leaned closer. “What is it?” his voice urgent. “What do you see now?”

“He’s turning it on himself, he’s –” Alex gasped and stood suddenly, yelling, “STOP!”

Nobody had time to ask what Alex was so scared of or what had happened, because in that instance, the sound of a gunshot went off and the plaster on the opposing wall broke and fell to the ground, leaving a bullet-sized hole in the cement. Everyone shrieked, their heads whipped around to the damage, while Michael and Liz looked around wildly for whoever had shot.

But Kyle knew. He stood to cover Alex, to keep him safe, but the airman was already falling down onto his seat, into Kyle’s arms. Kyle was shocked to realize that his nose was bleeding, his eyes were closed. Whether it had been the exhaustion, the shock, or something else entirely, it was too much – always too much – and Kyle somehow knew that he was in danger.

“HEY!” he yelled, catching everyone’s attention. “Call an ambulance!”

“Alex,” Michael’s eyes widened as he caught hold of the soldier in Kyle’s arms, passed out. “Oh my God, Alex –”

He took a step towards Alex, but Kyle held on tighter, two fingers on his neck, checking his pulse. “Damn it, I said call an ambulance NOW!”

Michael froze in shock, but Liz was already dialing, her worried eyes going between the shot in the wall and Alex while Max and Isobel gathered around Kyle and Alex.

Kyle looked to the gunshot, then to Alex and his exhausted face. He had told Alex it was all in his head, he had told him that he had to snap out of it, not realizing how hard Alex had been fighting to do just that.

“Alex,” he breathed, moving his bangs from his forehead. “Don’t worry, I’m right here. I’m right here.”


	23. Maribel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isobel and Maria have a talk at the bar.

“We’re closed,” Maria said as the door of the Wild Pony opened, her wrist aching as she wiped down the bar for the seventh time. She took a deep breath, willing the heavy, hot weight in her chest to cool, but no matter what, no matter how hard she tried, _his_ face kept flashing in her mind.

She sighed, leaving the rag on the table as she rubbed her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept.

“Shucks, really?” she suddenly heard, and whipped around to find Isobel Evans standing with her hand on her hip, her head tilted and a smirk on her lips. “My brother told me you always let _him_ in after hours.”

“Evans,” she said, her shoulders slumped. “Great, just what I needed tonight.”

Isobel scoffed, though Maria couldn’t help but notice that it held none of her usual snark or sneer. “You’re not exactly my beacon of light tonight either, DeLuca.”

“Then to what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

“Like I said,” Isobel said, sliding onto one of the stools while Maria leaned against the bar. Her knees bumped into Maria’s legs, though Isobel hardly seemed to notice. “My brother says –”

“I wouldn’t listen too closely to anything your brother says,” Maria said with a feigned sweet smile, though even referencing the cowboy made her feel sick. “I ended things a few hours ago,” then she muttered, “I’ve done enough damage with him already.”

When she thought about Alex, his face as he had told her that Michael wasn’t “so bad after a shower,” the hurt in his eyes when she’d confirmed she’d slept with him, and the fear she felt flicker in his heart as she’d promised him that it had meant nothing.

Then the agonizing pain the next time he had looked at her, the betrayal she’d felt on his behalf, the unrelenting shock as if every part of him still couldn’t believe she had done such a thing to him.

“Ended things,” Isobel repeated, a furrow in her brows. It was only now, Maria realized, that she could clearly see Isobel’s face that she realized how tired the blonde woman looked. Her makeup which was always on point – though Maria would never admit it out loud – was slightly smudged around the eyes, as if Isobel had been crying but tried saving the eyeliner as best she could. Her lips had no gloss or color, but were chapped as if she’d been chewing on them all day, her finger tapped her knee anxiously as if she had too many thoughts running around in her head to focus on one at a time, and just by standing near her, Maria could _feel_ it. The sorrow, the grief, the anger, the hurt, the betrayal, the misery. _What happened to her?_

“You’re talking about _Michael_?” Isobel asked, and Maria flinched, severely yanked out of her thoughts at the mention of the cowboy.

Maria pressed her lips together and said nothing. She picked up her rag, patted her hands down with it, and went around the bar, as far away from Isobel as she could get. Something about the blonde’s dark energy scared her, part of her worried that it would affect her if she came to close – something she definitely couldn’t handle right now – and the other part… the other part of Maria, a teeny _tiny_ part, couldn’t help but worry that her own misery and heartbreak would touch Isobel. Something told her the blonde really didn’t need anymore of that. Not tonight.

“You dated my brother? _Michael_?” she asked again, disbelief coloring her tone. “Are you sure you were dating? ‘Cause I should probably tell you, if you slept with him and you’re, like, waiting for a declaration of love, he’s really not that kind of guy.”

Maria sighed, pulling a bottle of tequila out and filling a small glass. She wanted to pretend it was to shut Isobel up, though something inside her dug at her heart, past the ache, past the weight, past the heat – something that felt like sympathy, though Maria chose to call it pity.

“How bored _are_ you?” she asked wearily. Even if Isobel wasn’t the absolute worst person to talk to about this, it was too late in the day to explain the story.

Isobel held her hand out eagerly for the drink, and Maria handed it to her, careful not to hold onto the extra weight that seemed to fall on her shoulders as her fingers touched Isobel’s. Maria’s eyes burned as the desire to curl up on the floor and sob suddenly hit. She snatched her hand back, holding it to her chest. What kind of misery was surrounding the blonde?

Isobel, however, didn’t seem to notice Maria’s momentary fear as she took a big gulp of her drink. She winced as it left a burning trail down her throat, but when she looked up, Maria had already turned away from her, making it to seem as if she was cleaning the other cups. In reality, Maria was rubbing her fingers, half of her trying to decipher the strange electric tingle against her skin while the other half told her to just forget it, to ignore it. It was Isobel, after all – _who cares what happened to her?_

“I’m just trying to warn you,” Isobel said, though as Maria looked over her shoulder at her, she saw the blonde stare at the table, and Maria had the feeling she was talking just to avoid crying. “My brother’s already in love with someone who, if you ask me, is _way_ out of his league already. But…” she sighed, her voice softening, “he’s in love, so… I want that to work out for him.”

Maria sniffed, wiping Isobel’s unshed tears from her eyes before she turned to face her, her brows furrowed. “You know? Who Michael’s in love with, I mean?”

Isobel had just finished her drink, hissing before she leaned her elbow on the bar. “Sorry, DeLuca, I don’t think your psychic powers are gonna help you this time. My brother told _me_.” She shook her head, shrugging. “It’s not my job to pass the information on.”

Maria flinched, trying not to remember the way she’d so casually told Liz that Michael was the one Alex had loved, as if the whole thing had been a story about celebrities and not her best friend. As if Alex’s feelings were an _inconvenience_ for her. As if Alex finally being hopeful again was unfair –

Maria exhaled sharply, rubbing her face. _Go away_ , she urged the thoughts. _Go away, go away, go away._

“Are you having a seizure or something?”

Maria looked up from her hands, glaring at Isobel who had taken the bottle and was drinking out of that instead.

“You owe me fifty bucks for that bottle,” she said dryly, and as she drank, Isobel pulled a bill from her jacket pocket and handed it to Maria. The bartender blinked, taking the money. “A Guerin who actually pays. That’s new.”

Isobel finally swallowed, lowering the bottle into her lap. She stared at it a moment, scratching the paper on the glass, then she repeated, “A Guerin. Do I look like a Guerin to you? It does have a better ring than Bracken anyway.”

Maria tilted her head, studying Isobel thoughtfully before she asked, “Do you honestly want to be a Guerin? They’re kind of known to be messes.”

Isobel huffed a chuckle, shaking her head. “You just don’t see it,” she said. “Nobody ever really sees him. Except maybe…” she shrugged, taking another swig of the bottle. “He’s nice. _He_ sees him.”

Maria, for a moment, thought Isobel had been hesitant to call Michael nice, and was confused. Then she realized that Isobel had been hesitant because she was talking about _Alex_. Maria half-wondered where Isobel had met Alex and decided he was nice. Still, she couldn’t help but nod along.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “He is.”

She looked up at Isobel to see her watching her, her brows furrowed as if she was trying to remember if she’d mentioned Alex’s name or not. Maria couldn’t help but notice how fragile the blonde looked then, how innocent. Her green eyes which had twinkled with mischief the last time Maria had read her palm, her lips which seemed curved into a permanent smirk not that different from her brother’s, her fingers that been firm and steady in Maria’s were now slipping on the tequila bottle in her lap.

Maria soon realized they were staring at each other and blinked out of her haze, clearing her throat as she reached across the bar, took the bottle out of Isobel’s hands, and had a long swig of it herself.

“Oh,” Isobel said with a tilt of her head and an amused smirk at her lips that didn’t reach her eyes, “it’s going to be one of _those_ nights.”

Maria rolled her eyes. She briefly noted that Isobel’s lip gloss on the mouth of the bottle smelled like strawberries, and even against the strong scent of the alcohol, it didn’t smell too bad. “Evans, you talk too much.”

A few hours later, though Maria couldn’t entirely remember how, she and Isobel had ended up on the floor against the bar, their knees pulled up to their chests, the bottle nearly empty between them.

They talked about little nothings; weird customers that had come in before, rude store owners, skirting around the topic of men, and as they did, Maria glanced at Isobel, wondering why someone who seemed as happily married as her wouldn’t be with her husband right now, especially if she was having such a hard time.

“What happened between you and my brother?” Isobel finally asked, though any trace of humor was gone from her voice.

Maria knew she could’ve told Isobel that it was none of her business, or just refuse to answer, but the energy clouding Isobel was too strong, too miserable, for Maria to bear say nothing.

“Worried about me now, are you?” she joked, and Isobel shook her head.

“I don’t want Michael to get hurt,” she said softly. “He’s already in love, and it’s killing him. I wondered why he was having so much trouble talking to… that other person.” She turned to Maria with a frown. “Now I’m starting to think maybe you’re why.”

Maria felt a pang in her chest at the mention of Alex. So he wasn’t talking to Michael. Maria had figured that might have happened. She wanted to believe that breaking up with Michael would be enough, that it might fix his and Alex’s relationship, that maybe – without Maria in the way – they might be able to love each other again.

_But no_. The rational side of her thought, the side that _knew_ Alex. She and Michael had completely shattered his trust, broken him in a way that could never be undone.

A tear slid down her cheek and she was quick to wipe it away, but not before Isobel saw it and nodded slowly as if she understood.

Maria, unable to take the look, shook her head and asked, “Then what happened between you and Noah?”

Isobel tensed at the mention of his name and looked straight ahead.

“Come on, Evans, it’s not that hard to figure out,” she said. “It’s past midnight and you’re trying to get drunk, and instead of being with your husband, you’re here with me. So what –”

“We got divorced,” was all she said before she took another swig of the bottle, emptying the contents.

Maria blinked, her face falling. “Oh,” was all she knew to say, and instantly regretted asking. A breakup wasn’t the same thing as a divorce. And Isobel had been so _happy_ with him, too.

She shook her head, gently taking the empty bottle from Isobel and resisting the passing urge to move a strand of blonde hair that had come loose from its braid.

She slumped back with a sigh. “How did this happen? How is _this_ our life?”

Isobel said nothing for a moment, then she shrugged. “Maybe we’re cursed. I mean, you fell in love with someone who doesn’t love you back,” she said, and Maria turned to snap at her, but saw no mockery or indifference on her face. “And I fell in love with someone who…” the corner of her lips quirked up sadly, “doesn’t love anything.”

Maria pressed her lips together for a moment, then, “Well, you know, Prom Queen, tonight’s not so bad. At least we’re not alone.”

Isobel glanced at her and scoffed, some of the sorrow and bitterness in her smile faded. “I thought you hated me.”

Maria frowned. “I don’t hate you. I…”

“Think I’m responsible for Rosa Ortecho’s death.”

She looked down. “I shouldn’t have blamed you for that.”

“No,” she agreed. “You shouldn’t have.” She took the empty bottle, and as she held it tightly, Maria could tell she was conflicted, a thousand words lying on her tongue, though she couldn’t bring herself to say any of them. “I never hurt anybody.”

“I know, Isobel,” she said softly, and Isobel looked up at her, the two caught in each other’s gazes for a long time.

Maria knew it was the tequila that made her lean in, it had to have been. As green as Isobel Evans’s eyes were, as pink as her lips, as soft as her skin, Maria knew that – had she been sober – she would not be doing what she was doing. Still, something in her shifted and softened as she saw that Isobel was leaning in just the same.

Their lips barely brushed, Maria’s thoughts consumed with how nice Isobel smelled (strawberries and vanilla), how much nicer the scent was compared to Michael, and her eyes snapped open.

_Michael._

This was his sister; she couldn’t kiss his sister, no matter how drunk she was!

She pulled back, and Isobel, whose eyes had just begun to flutter shut, slowly leaned back, her brows furrowed. In that moment, Maria realized that Isobel knew, just as she did, that nothing good would come of them hooking up.

She cleared her throat and moved to stand, just as Isobel did the same.

“Right, well, I really do need to close up now.”

“Mm,” Isobel hummed, avoiding her gaze. Maria wondered if she felt any regret at coming here tonight, if she would’ve rather suffered at home alone, and the thought left an inexplicable pain in her chest.

“You – you want me to call you a cab?”

Isobel nodded, buttoning her jacket. _When had she unbuttoned it?_

“Yes,” she said, then as an afterthought added, “please.”

Maria nodded and walked out, aware of the blonde following her.


	24. Maribel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isobel and Maria are trapped in a supply closet.

“Don’t say a word!” Maria snapped at Isobel when the crowbar she’d been trying to use to unhinge the door only slipped out of her hands because the space between the door and the frame was too small.

Isobel eyed the crowbar as it clattered to the stone floor and raised an eyebrow at Maria, popping her gum. “Me?” she said dully. “Defy the Great Mystic? How could I ever?”

“Ha ha,” Maria huffed and sat down across from Isobel, but even though she was as far away as she could get from the blonde, their knees still almost touched. The storage room was tiny after all. “Considering you’re the one that got us trapped in here, I wouldn’t be so quick to make jokes.”

Isobel scoffed. “Oh that’s right, I magically locked the door and got it stuck, because it’s always my fault, isn’t it? Rusty hinges and a crappy lock? Nah, Isobel did it.” She leaned her head back against a shelf of old necklaces and olive jars. At some point, Maria thought, she would really have to do some inventory and remember what kind of stuff she had had lying around.

“Besides, as I recall,” Isobel continued, her eyes closed. “You were the one who had closed the door.”

“Because I was trying to talk some sense into _you_!” Maria huffed. “What were you even doing in here anyway?”

Isobel shrugged. “Stealing your paper towels.”

Maria shook her head. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” She wrapped her arms around her knees, hitting her head back against the door. “Hello?” she tried calling out for what felt like the millionth time, though she knew it was hopeless. The Wild Pony was closed, and as busy as this place usually was when they were open, that was as empty as it was when they weren’t in service. Still, she hit her head against the door, and it barely shook against her. “ _Hello_?!” She hit again. “ _Ugh_ , what is _with_ this door, isn’t it supposed to be made of wood?!”

“Would you stop?!” Isobel snapped, irritated. “You’re going to give yourself a concussion doing that!”

Maria rubbed her face, sighing into her palms. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t. The universe wouldn’t let me out anyway. That’d be too kind.”

“Stop complaining,” Isobel rolled her eyes. “Michael and I were supposed to meet here later, he’ll come and get us soon enough.”

Maria shook her head. “My freedom depends on Guerin.”

“That’s right, babe,” Isobel smiled sweetly. “So get comfortable.”

“My god,” she muttered, “you sound just like Guerin.”

“I’ve heard worse.”

“Does that ever weird you out?”

“What?”

“Hearing that you’re anything like Guerin.”

“Why would that be weird?”

“Because he’s not really your brother,” Maria said, and Isobel pursed her lips thoughtfully as if she’d never thought of Michael as _not really her brother_.

“You’re the only one that’s ever said it,” she said, her expression unreadable.

Maria blinked, her brows furrowed. She wasn’t used to anything being unreadable.

A minute, then two, then, unable to take the silence, Maria asked, “Can’t you just… _alien_ us out of here?”

Isobel looked unimpressed. “I’m an _influencer_ , DeLuca. I can influence people to do whatever I want, I _can’t_ make things explode or levitate anything. You would be looking for either Max or Michael.”

“Influence,” Maria repeated. It had been months since she’d been told about aliens and their powers, but she still had difficulty remembering who did what, and exactly how they did it. “Like mind control.”

She expected Isobel to make a snarky or sarcastic remark, maybe even a sexual innuendo, but instead she just shrugged. “Yeah,” she said, her voice suddenly soft. “I guess it is.”

Maria stared for a moment, then, “You seem different.”

“Stuffy storage spaces make my skin dry,” she said.

“Not in how you look, I mean,” she tilted her head, her brows furrowed, “you just… _feel_ different.”

Isobel straightened, her mouth open in shock as she covered her chest with her hand. “Are you sexually harassing me with your mind?”

“God,” she groaned, “you know what? Forget it! You’re hopeless.” She stood. “I was just trying to help.”

“Sorry, Isobel Evans isn’t here right now, please leave a message at the sound of any single crap being given.”

“ _Just_ like Guerin,” she muttered. “What _were_ you doing in here anyway?”

“Texting,” she said instantly, closing her eyes and crossing her arms.

Maria raised a brow. “Texting? In the storage room?”

“I needed privacy.”

“To do _what_?”

“To _text_ ,” she snapped. “Are you not listening to me?”

“That is such a lie.”

“Right, sorry, I forgot about your all-knowing eye,” she scrunched her shoulders, crossing her arms tighter around herself. “Tell me, oh Saintly One, since you clearly know all the answers of the universe, what am I going to have for lunch tomorrow?”

“Very funny.”

“While I’m at it, how does Supernatural end? After fifteen years, please tell me they just die.”

“I’m not humoring this,” Maria said, shaking her head. “You think that by pissing me off, it’ll fix whatever the hell’s happening with you, but it won’t. I’ve seen you brother drown his sorrows away in drinks and bar fights every night, and what you’re doing now is no different, Isobel.”

Isobel stared, then smirked, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “How miserable _are_ you, DeLuca?”

“What?”

“You’ve never given a crap about what happens to me, how I feel, but ever since your little thing with Michael crashed into the wall, which – let’s face it, we were all waiting for that one – you’ve been particularly attentive to everything _I_ do. Why? Can’t take your frustrations out on my brother so you’re taking them out on me instead? I don’t need or want your help, so –”

“You’re cold,” Maria noted despite herself, and Isobel went silent.

“What?” she said, and Maria realized that Isobel just didn’t know that she was curling in deeper on herself. Maria had been used to standing under an air conditioner all day, but Isobel, she realized, probably wasn’t.

She sighed, taking her jacket off. “You’re shivering, Evans. Here,” she said and tossed her jacket onto Isobel.

Isobel gripped the jacket’s collar, her jaw clenched though she was avoiding Maria’s gaze. “I told you, I don’t –”

“I get it, okay?” Maria said. “You don’t need my bar, you don’t need my fortunes, and you don’t need me, but until your brother gets here, how about you just _pretend_ that you need my jacket because I’m not taking it back till I see Michael.”

Isobel said nothing for a moment, then she pressed her lips together and blanketed herself with the jacket, her eyes faced away.

Something in Maria settled as Isobel’s shoulders slumped as if she was finally warm. She stared at the blonde who was having so much trouble looking back at her, and couldn’t help but think; _you’re wrong_. She did care about what happened to Isobel, and it wasn’t because of Michael. At least, Maria really didn’t think it was.

It didn’t _feel_ like she was taking her frustrations out on Isobel, though she hated to admit that she understood why Isobel would think it did. There was just something about her energy now, something more vulnerable, something that pushed those walls of smirks and sneers and sarcasm and ego down, and revealed something purer. Something _good_.

_Maybe that’s why_ , Maria thought. Maybe she was just curious of the puzzle that Isobel had turned out to be. Even Michael was easy to figure out – scared and deeply in love, stuck in his past, using sarcasm and drinks to hide his pain and his heart of gold – but Isobel was a different case entirely. In Isobel, Maria felt something like crystals shimmering under the surface. Sharp, but _beautiful_ in their danger.

“Isobel –” she started to say, to explain that Isobel had it wrong, that she wasn’t stuck in here with someone who hated her, but just as she opened her mouth, they heard someone calling.

“Isobel? Isobel, you here?”

“Michael,” Isobel breathed, relief flooding her expression.

“Guerin,” Maria turned, hitting the door, “we’re in here!”

“DeLuca?” Michael’s confused voice came. “What’re you doing in there?”

“Tanning,” Maria said dryly. “Hey, you mind opening the door?”

A moment of silence, then the door made a creak sound as if it was forcefully pushed open by an invisible source. Michael glanced at Maria, giving her a small nod before Isobel ran into his arms, and he held her tightly.

“Hey,” he said when she pulled back, one hand cupping her cheek, the other on her arm, “you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Isobel said a little breathlessly, and Maria thought she was trying to straighten herself, as if she’d been lounging in the storage room without a single care. “Let’s just go home.”

Michael stared at her a moment, then nodded. “Okay,” and he put an arm around her shoulders to lead her out.

“Oh, wait,” she said, then turned to Maria, and cleared her throat, Maria’s jacket in her hand. “I believe this is yours.”

As soon as Maria had hold of her jacket, Isobel turned and walked away. Michael watched after her, and turned to Maria with furrowed brows. “What’d you do to her?”

Maria contemplated getting into it, but ultimately sighed. She was too tired. “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Looks like all I can do is piss her off.”

“No,” Michael shook his head and began walking to the door after his sister. With his back still turned, he said, “She actually looks happy.”

Maria’s eyebrows rose as the door closed behind the cowboy, and she was left standing in her bar alone.

_Texting_ , Isobel had said. Maria didn’t remember Isobel looking around when she’d walked in, like she’d been expecting anyone. She thought of Isobel’s state in the storage room, as if she’d been drained, and she wondered, yet again, what it was that Isobel had been doing in the storage room, and why she had been so distressed that she decided to text her brother to come get her.


	25. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle and Alex date night, and everyone walks in on them.

Kyle hummed softly, his nose against Alex’s cheek, his hands on Alex’s hips as the airman leaned in and pecked him yet again.

“You’re drunk,” Alex said softly when Kyle leaned in for another kiss.

Kyle’s smile widened before he pressed his lips against Alex’s, his eyes still closed, his cheeks warm, though he suspected that had more to do with Alex than the beer.

“So?” Kyle asked, and opened his eyes. He remembered once when he’d felt fear at having Alex close. There he had been, that seventeen-year-old badass, unafraid of anybody. He’d represented everything Kyle never knew he wanted, and everything Kyle was terrified of being destroyed for. But Alex had never been afraid. Alex had wanted to be himself, to be free and in charge, more than he had wanted anyone’s approval.

And now he was that same badass, but so different. He wore flannel and jeans now, he had light stubble along his jaw and above his lip, his eyes shined not with rebellion, but a kind of peace. Kyle’s hands tightened on Alex’s waist as he realized that the only fear he had now was of ever losing the airman again.

“Drunk or sober,” he said, his voice deep but steady, “you know I think you’re beautiful.”

Alex shook his head, his smile widening before he lightly shoved Kyle away, his own cheeks flushed. “Shut up, get away from me.”

“No, no, don’t do that,” Kyle whined as he held on to the arm that Alex was using to push him away with both hands, his eyes closed. “Don’t push me away, Alexander! Don’t let our love fall! Don’t keep me locked away on an island of _dreams_ –”

“Do _you_ even know what you’re saying anymore?” Alex said, laughter coloring his tone. Kyle loved that. He loved that he could make Alex laugh. There was a time Alex had only fallen into silent despair when he was drunk, using the beer as an excuse to keep others at a further distance than usual, putting up a wall that even Kyle couldn’t break through. That time was over now.

“I don’t really know,” Kyle’s eyes narrowed, though he couldn’t help but mirror Alex’s smile. “I think I’m trying to serenade you. Or recite poetry.”

“You don’t sing, and you hate poetry.”

“You make me want to try new things.”

Alex laughed, and Kyle’s heart warmed. He moved closer, widening his knees so that he was basically caging Alex in. The airman hardly seemed to notice as he said, “Were you _always_ this attached? I don’t remember you ever being this attached.”

Kyle’s eyes searched Alex’s face; his dark brown bangs now so long that they were falling over his eyes, his long lashes curling against his rosy cheeks, his soft pink lips curved up into a delicate smile – still so delicate and fresh that Kyle knew it would shatter if he wasn’t careful – and before he knew it, he said, “I guess I just never cared so much about anyone else until now.”

Alex’s smile softened, and he cupped Kyle’s jaw, bringing him closer until their lips were pressed against one another. The two were gentle at first, every kiss a soft breath as the jukebox played music in the background, the chattering of other bar customers faded as if Alex and Kyle were underwater.

Alex suddenly moaned, and Kyle nearly gasped. The sound was slight, but enough to vibrate through Kyle’s entire body and have him wrapping an arm around Alex’s waist, pulling him in. Alex made a startled noise in the back of his throat, but Kyle was already running his fingers through the airman’s hair. It really _was_ as soft as it looked, even when it was sticking out in a rumpled mess.

Kyle nearly stood off his stool and hitched Alex’s legs around his waist as their kisses turned harder and hungrier. Alex held on to Kyle’s jaw as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, Kyle moaning at the delicious sound of their wet lips separating only to come back together again and again and _again_.

He wanted to kiss lower than Alex’s lips. He wanted to reach up under his shirt and feel Alex’s soft skin, his muscle, his chest hair. He pulled back, just about to tell Alex that they should go to either the bathroom or his car – whichever, it didn’t matter – when they heard a familiar voice say –

“Oh my God.”

Kyle glanced sideways while Alex’s brows furrowed, his eyes still on Kyle’s lips as if in a haze, and the doctor saw Liz Ortecho standing there, her eyes and mouth open, with Max Evans and none other than _Michael Guerin_ on each side of her.

“I did not,” Liz tried, but as her eyes flickered between Kyle and Alex, Kyle thought she looked a little breathless, “I did _not_ see this coming.”

Max, who didn’t know much of either Kyle or Alex, said nothing, though he looked to Michael as if afraid of what he might do. _He knows what Alex means to Michael_ , Kyle thought, and sure enough, when his eyes fell on Michael last, he saw him smirking, but his jaw was tight, his tongue in his cheek, and his eyes directed at Kyle with a blazing hatred.

Michael huffed an unamused chuckle and said, “I’m gonna kill you,” before he strode toward him, his smirk falling off his lips. Right away, Max caught his arm, Liz had her hands on his shoulder, both of them yelling some variation of “Michael, stop!” at the same time that Alex had stepped in front of Kyle as a shield and said in his most commanding voice, “Don’t even think about it!”

Kyle half-wondered how Alex could keep his voice so steady when he himself was so drunk that he had difficulty standing without swaying. Alex kept his eyes on Michael, and Kyle kept his eyes on Alex.

“Alex, move,” Michael growled, his glare moving to the airman, though Alex didn’t even flinch. Kyle didn’t think Alex would ever be afraid of Michael. He secretly hoped that would never change.

“Stop it, Guerin.”

“I said _MOVE!_ ” Right then, the cups and bottles on the bar shattered to pieces, sending glass everywhere. Kyle gasped and covered Alex from behind, keeping anything from touching him. Though somehow, he knew Michael wouldn’t have let anything hit Alex in the first place.

“Go ahead!” Alex snapped. “Tear the place apart, break every bottle in here, scare everyone away, but I’m not letting you anywhere near him.”

“Are – Are you guys together or something?” Liz asked, her eyes big and confused, and Kyle sighed, his hands tightening on Alex’s shoulders. He didn’t fail to notice Michael following his fingers, the fire in them growing at the sight of Kyle touching Alex at all.

But Alex wasn’t Michael’s airman anymore. He was Kyle’s. Michael would just have to deal with that. Whatever their past had been, he’d thrown it away when he chose someone else. Kyle didn’t understand _how_ , but Michael chose someone other than Alex. He wasn’t getting him back now.

“I’ll call you later,” Kyle said, and Liz seemed unable to say anything as she moved her curious and concerned eyes from the doctor to her best friend. “Come on,” he said softly, and Alex finally tore his gaze away from Michael and nodded shortly to Kyle.

Kyle kept his hands on Alex’s shoulders as they walked away, then, when they both had their backs turned to the small group, Michael suddenly yelled, “You’ll forgive _him_ , but not me?!” and Alex froze, his muscles tense under Kyle’s touch.

Kyle thought Alex might turn and yell something back, might tell Michael why it was so different this time, might explain that he could actually trust Kyle in a way he never could trust the cowboy. But Alex pressed the bottom of his palm against his temple as if he was dealing with a miserable migraine, he exhaled a quiet, shaky breath that Kyle knew only he could hear, and he muttered, “Please get me out of here.”

Kyle was startled at the vulnerability in the request, but he nodded quickly, tightened his hold on Alex’s shoulders, and led them both out, keeping his boyfriend protected from any eyes as they left.


	26. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The missing roadtrip from Roswell to Caulfield.

Michael was laid out lazily against the bunk, his arms crossed as his eyes remained half-lidded, his lips pursed. He wasn’t going to _tell_ Alex that it bothered him to have Kyle there – that it bothered him to have Kyle anywhere in Alex’s vicinity, really – but he hoped the airman would’ve figured it out by now. Michael kind of thinks he had, but was choosing to ignore the cowboy.

Michael opted for sitting in the center of the bunk, right where he could keep an eye on Kyle’s hands and where he put them, instead of the window seat. Barely five minutes into the drive and Kyle started talking, just to Alex, his voice low though Michael heard enough to understand that the doctor was giving a rundown of his day. As if Alex was his boyfriend, and he just _had_ to let his sweetheart know how his patients had been. Michael stuck his tongue in his cheek, focusing on the landscape outside rushing by instead of the fact that Alex was responding with an interested, “Hm? Really?” every so often. How long had they been talking like that?

When Kyle reached a hand out to Alex, Michael’s head snapped around and he saw that Kyle was actually handing Alex a water bottle, reminding him to stay hydrated.

Alex, to Michael’s surprise, took the bottle without a word, had a sip and handed it back to Kyle who took it without even looking at the airman. Michael hated it, but the movement had looked so easy, so _natural_. They fit in a way Michael didn’t think he and Alex had ever fit, and it made him clench his fists.

“So how long have you guys been working together anyway?” he couldn’t help but ask, his tone nonchalant.

“Little over half a year,” Kyle said, checking his rearview mirror.

“Take a left here,” Alex said, gesturing at the oncoming road as he kept his eyes on the map in his hands. It was a regular road map littered with Alex’s handwriting, traced paths that weren’t supposed to exist, and dozens of little arrows indicating secret entryways and exits.

Michael tried not to look surprised. _Over half a year?_ He and Alex had barely spoken in months, but the airman had been holed up with _Kyle_ in a bunker that entire time? The thought that almost every time after Alex had left him, he had gone to Kyle, made his jaw tighten, something turned heated and painful in his chest.

“Wow,” he said, slumping back in his seat, his eyes on Alex. “That’s a long time. Bet you guys are pretty cozy around each other now.”

Kyle shook his head as he pulled out his water bottle again and something small wrapped in a napkin from his pocket. He handed them both to Alex. “Here.”

“I already had my pills,” Alex said.

“You’ve been with me all day,” Kyle said, and Michael narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t taken any pills.”

“I’m _fine_.”

“Great, then take the pills.”

“Kyle –”

“You want the pain to stop or not?” Kyle asked, and Alex said nothing. Michael’s frown deepened. Alex was experiencing pain? Could it have been his leg? Now that Michael thought about it, Alex _had_ been leaning his weight on his left leg all day, and even when he smiled, he had clenched his jaw as if he had been hurt and was trying not to show it. “Take the pills, Manes.”

Alex seemed to hesitate, then Michael leaned forward and grabbed the napkin-wrapped pills, as well as the water bottle, from Kyle’s hand, holding them out for Alex instead. Alex looked momentarily startled, but he huffed, undoubtedly annoyed that Michael now knew what he’d been trying all day to hide, and took his medication and water from the cowboy. He looked at neither of them as he down the pills and capped the bottle, thrusting it back at Kyle.

Michael turned to the doctor who was facing straight ahead, seemingly unaffected about the fact that Alex had accepted the help from Michael as oppose to him, but Michael saw the way his jaw clenched, the way he tried so hard to avoid Michael’s gaze even as the cowboy smiled smugly at him.

“Don’t worry, doc,” he said in a quiet voice. “Alex always listens to me.”

“Bite me, Guerin.”

Michael leaned back, infinitely more relaxed as he remembered the way Alex’s fingertips felt against his palm, the way his eyes had caught Michael’s and instantly filled with trust, the way Alex’s body seemed to relax against his seat when Michael had come close. Kyle couldn’t have known what that felt like; to have Alex’s entire heart.

“Sorry your adventures in the bunker didn’t make you the soulmates you hoped you would be.”

“Could you be any more jealous? Is it even biologically possible?”

“You would know, Dr. Cheekbones.”

“Okay, guys, just –”

“And jealous of _what_ , exactly? You two working on Project Shepherd together? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of in on it, too.”

“One road trip doesn’t make you our partner,” Kyle retorted. “You’re here because you’re an alien –”

“—and you need me –”

“Yeah, for this _one_ thing,” Kyle said. “After that, Alex and I head back to the bunker to work on what we find. That’s always been the plan. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Please –”

“Some bunker in the ground isn’t gonna fix the past ten years,” Michael said. “You know _that_ , don’t you?”

Alex stilled, his eyes catching Michael’s again in the mirror, but this time, they carried something different.

_Fix the past ten years._ Michael only then just realized that what he’d said had made it sound like he and Alex would never fix the time that they had lost. After all, Kyle had at least been spending time with Alex, while Michael himself…

He shook his head, opening his mouth to tell Alex that he hadn’t meant it, that it was different with Kyle, that the connection between Alex and Michael was different, _stronger_.

Then Kyle started chuckling, and Michael’s gaze went to him. “Five minutes,” he said. “You couldn’t make it _five_ minutes without saying something about that.”

Michael smirked. “Sorry, Valenti, I’m actually talking to Alex now, so –”

“Are you? Because it kind of just sounds like you want to know if Alex and I are secretly dating.”

“And you felt inclined to answer on his behalf?”

“Guys,” Alex tried, his voice soft, but Michael’s glare was on Kyle.

“I didn’t hear you say his name,” Kyle said.

“Kyle –”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, Guerin.”

Michael felt a fire spread throughout his chest in an instant. “What the hell does that mean?”

Kyle sighed, shaking his head as he turned onto another street. “Look, I know it bothers you not having tabs on everything he does, but what Alex and I do in the bunker is none of your business. Okay?”

“ _‘What Alex and I do?’_ ” Michael huffed a humorless chuckle. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“Guerin, stop it already –”

Michael leaned forward in his seat, well aware that Alex was rubbing his face, exhausted, but he kept his eyes on Kyle. “Don’t tell me,” he said, his voice dripping sarcasm. “You only bullied him when we were kids because you secretly liked him, and now, with no one around to watch, you think he’ll just run into your arms and you can finally be together. Is that the Pride Day ending you were hoping for?”

“Dick,” Kyle muttered.

“Okay, how about this,” Michael patted his shoulder. “You felt empty all your life, and you never knew why. But when you were in the bunker, you realized Alex’s skin looks really soft and –”

“Oh, what’re you, twelve?”

“Your heart started racing and you just _knew_ –”

“Stop it!” Alex snapped. “What are you guys even doing? Is this really the time to be arguing?”

Neither of them said anything, but Michael slumped back in his seat, putting his feet up and crossing them on the center console.

“How far is this place anyway?” he asked, then at the way Kyle rolled his eyes, added, “ _Alex_. There you go, there’s his name, I’m asking Alex.”

“You’re such a child,” Kyle said.

“It’s two hours out of town,” Alex said with a sigh.

“It’s just desert out here,” Michael thought out loud. “What’re these guys trying to hide?”

“If it has something to do with Project Shepherd,” Kyle said, “I’m gonna say, nothing good.”

Michael rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He rested his head back against the seat, his eyes unmoving from Alex. The airman was pointing to the map, muttering something about power surges and heat signatures, and he dozed off to his soft voice.

When he woke up, he found no trace of Roswell. No houses, no ranches, no bars – nothing except dirt and the top of what looked to be like a large building far in front of them, rising as they got closer.

“I have to pee,” he said, and Kyle pressed his lips together.

“Hold it.”

“Fine,” Michael yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “but if I have to hold it in till Caulfield, just know that I’ll be spelling out _Valenti sucks_ on the dirt.”

“How do you stand him?” he asked Alex, and Alex said nothing, his attention on his map as he – Michael suspected – triple-checked their entry point.

“I’m hot, for one,” Michael said. “Plus I know exactly where to touch him to make him –”

“I can actually feel my brain cells decaying just from listening to you speak.”

“Oh no,” Michael said dryly. “Wouldn’t want you to be useless.”

“Hey, I know it’s a stretch, but humor me,” Kyle said. “Do you have anything somewhat _productive_ to say at all?”

“You want productive, Valenti? How about I use my powers to shove the next cactus we pass up your –”

“ENOUGH!” Alex snapped. “We’re supposed to be on a mission here, we don’t have time for whatever the hell this is!”

“Alex –”

“I don’t want to hear it, Guerin!” he said, then sighed deeply, rubbing his face. When he spoke next, it was to Kyle, and his voice was a lot calmer. “Kyle, this is the first real lead we’ve been able to make sense of from your dad’s writings. We _have_ to stay on high alert. Okay?”

Kyle caught his eyes, and Michael noticed his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “So ignore everything he says.”

“If you really want me to trust that you can handle an op like this,” Alex sighed, “basically, yes.”

Kyle swallowed, and after a moment, he shook his head. “Fine.”

Michael watched as Kyle pointedly ignored his gaze, and he realized that Kyle really was trying for Alex’s sake. He wanted to prove himself capable of doing whatever Alex could do, of handling whatever Alex could handle. He didn’t just want Alex’s trust, he wanted to _impress_ Alex. Michael tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, wondering how much closer the doctor and the airman had really gotten, and a terrifying thought passed; what if Michael couldn’t keep up?

He moved to sit back in his seat, and saw Alex watching him. The airman raised an eyebrow at him as if asking if he was okay, and Michael smirked as if to say, _‘I’m always okay.’_

Then something flashed in Alex’s eyes, and Michael realized that Alex knew he was lying. Still the airman huffed an amused chuckle, his smile soft and admiring as he nodded. He didn’t believe Michael, but he knew that Michael wanted him to pretend he did, so that was what he would do.

Michael said nothing, his brows furrowed slightly in thought as he leaned back, but he kept his hand on Alex’s seat, his fingers brushing the nape of Alex’s neck for a moment before they parked the car and stepped out, the touch having been too brief for Michael to understand what it meant. Michael suddenly didn’t care what Kyle was doing with Alex, what Kyle was saying to Alex, where Kyle was touching Alex. All he cared about was Alex, confused about the electricity still tingling in his fingertips at the touch of Alex’s skin.


	27. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael asks Alex about his scars.

Michael had only gone into the kitchen to get a glass of water, but when he came back into the bedroom, he found his boyfriend sitting on the edge of his bed, a towel wrapped around his waist, another smaller towel around his shoulders as he dried off his wet hair.

Michael leaned against the doorframe, his eyes following Alex’s dark strands as they stuck to his forehead and neck, the water droplets as they rolled down Alex’s face like tears, making a trail off his jaw and down his chest that Michael found he really wanted to follow with his tongue. Then there were Alex’s arms and back – muscled and flexing as Alex worked, highlighting the red scars along the smooth skin. Michael had asked for the stories behind each of those scars, the ones Alex had felt the need to hide with makeup when he had come back to Roswell, but felt comfortable enough to reveal to Michael one night after a particularly long shower. Some Alex could talk about, some he couldn’t bring himself to remember.

Still, Michael remembered kissing along each of those wounds, from the small ones that had clearly come from a bullet, to the big ones whose sources Michael could not imagine.

“You’re staring again,” Alex said, though he wasn’t looking at Michael.

The corners of the cowboy’s lips quirked upward. “You’re half-naked. Of course I’m staring.”

Alex peeked at him through his wet strands, smiling. “Are you waiting for permission to come touch me?”

Michael bit his lower lip, and came up to the bed, taking a seat beside Alex. “Here, let me,” he said, covering Alex’s hands on the towel with his own. Alex’s hands came down to rest on the bed, his eyes closed as Michael continued drying his hair.

Michael watched as Alex’s eyes closed, his long lashes curled against his red cheeks, and he couldn’t help himself. He slowly moved to straddle Alex’s hips, careful not to put too much weight on his legs, and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek.

Alex smiled, his hands coming up to Michael’s hips, holding him in place. “This is how you dry hair now?”

“I don’t hear you complaining,” Michael muttered, placing another kiss to Alex’s other cheek, then his nose. As he did, he stopped his movements with the towel, letting it fall onto Alex’s shoulders as his hands slowly came down the back of Alex’s head, then the nape of his neck, then onto his back. Alex hissed softly as Michael’s fingers ran over his scars, and Michael would’ve pulled back if Alex’s eyes hadn’t closed, his lips parted, his chin tilted upward as he chased Michael’s lips.

Michael exhaled a long, shaky breath as he pressed his forehead against Alex’s, his hands going lower, _lower_ , down Alex’s spine, across the rough, healed skin of his past injuries. Alex arched his back, his own hands going under Michael’s shirt, coming up his sides and to the front. Michael’s mouth fell open as he felt Alex’s fingers spread through the hair on his stomach, then follow the trail up to his chest.

“Baby,” Michael breathed, scratching along Alex’s back and across the red skin. Alex’s breath hitched in his throat and he raised his chin higher.

“I just showered,” he reminded Michael after the cowboy took his lips in a long, sensual kiss.

“I’ll give you a better shower later,” he whispered before he licked into Alex’s mouth, sending them both toppling backwards.

It was late in the night when Michael and Alex were rested beside each other, the blanket pulled up to their hips. Alex was on his stomach and Michael on his side, his leg thrown over the airman’s.

Michael was gently tracing Alex’s scars with the tips of his fingers. Someone else might have thought they were ugly, a gash on the perfect picture everyone often tried to hold Alex to as the renowned veteran he was. But Michael thought they made him that much more of a leader. He loved the scars, the signs of Alex’s battles, of his defeats and victories. Alex was his hero.

Then there were moments like this. Michael’s fingers came across a giant _X_ , one gash much darker than the one above it, as if a knife had slashed Alex’s skin. _It was a much older wound_ , Michael realized. It was _these_ moments, these particular scars that seemed older than ten years, when Michael felt something grow alongside the adoration in his chest. Something darker and harsher. Something that made him want to go out there and kill anyone who would’ve touched his airman. Alex’s eyes were nearly closed, Michael’s touch undoubtedly soothing to his constantly aching bones that came with the exhaustion of being part of the military.

“Alex,” Michael said.

“Hm?”

“If some of these scars hadn’t come from the Air Force,” he said, and Alex’s eyes opened halfway. Only widening fractionally, but widening nonetheless. “You’d tell me, right?”

Alex said nothing for a moment, then slightly shook his head.

“Why not?”

Alex looked up at his boyfriend, his brown eyes filled with a protectiveness Michael couldn’t deny, even as Alex was half asleep. Alex turned onto his back, taking away Michael’s access to most of his wounds. “It’s too sad,” he said simply, his hand coming up to Michael’s elbow, holding lightly.

“It’s not,” Michael slid down, his hand coming down Alex’s chest to rest on his stomach. “It’s important.”

“I don’t want you to get angry.”

“If it’s for you,” he said, “I’ll always get angry.”

“That’s not a good thing,” Alex chuckled tiredly, bringing his hand up to Michael’s jaw. “I don’t want to be the reason for that.”

“If you found out someone was hurting me,” Michael said, “what would you do?”

Alex searched Michael’s face, and Michael didn’t fail to notice how the airman’s eyes darkened, the hold on his jaw tighter. “Fair enough.”

“So you’ll tell me?”

Alex said nothing for a moment, then his expression softened. “You already know.”

Michael clenched his jaw. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quiet. “I do.”

Alex sighed, his smile softening into something like faint amusement. “There there,” he said, bringing his hands up to hold Michael’s face, his thumbs softly brushing his cheeks. Michael let his eyes close to Alex’s touch, any thought of Jesse Manes and Alex suffering when he was younger fading away as he was pulled down. His lips met Alex’s in a delicate kiss, then Michael tilted his head to deepen it, his tongue brushing against Alex’s. Alex’s fingers slid into his curls, and the cowboy moaned before he leaned down, kissing Alex’s chin, then his neck, then his chest. Then he came down to a healed bullet wound in Alex’s side, kissing the hard skin there.

“I love you,” he muttered against the scar, and kissed again. “I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you more,” Alex breathed, and Michael came back up to his lips, shaking his head.

“Not possible,” he said before he took Alex’s lips again, spreading the airman’s legs with one of his own.

He brought his hand down Alex’s sides, his hands behind Alex’s knees as he pulled the airman’s legs up to his waist. He felt Alex’s scars stretch from his back, the tips of his fingers against the rough skin.

“Don’t you ever get freaked out with all the cuts on my body?” Alex muttered, amused.

Michael looked into Alex’s eyes, the way the golden specs danced along the brown, the way he bit his lower lip, red and swollen, the way his soft hair fell on his forehead and slightly curled around his neck and ears at the bottom tips, and though Michael could only smile and shake his head in response, lowering himself to press against Alex, to feel every inch of his skin, of the airman’s beautiful lips against his own, the cowboy’s answer lay on his tongue, hoping that through the kisses, he could convey it to his boyfriend.

Hoping he could somehow tell Alex that he would gladly hold onto the thorns with both hands if it meant he got to have the rose.


	28. Malex & Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael comes to Alex for help only to find out that Alex and Kyle are now together.

It was late, though that couldn’t be helped. With Alex’s enlistment coming to an end, he wanted to make sure the work he was handing back was the best it could be. He’d never been desperate to join the military, but Alex had always been a perfectionist. After all these years finally coming to an end, Alex felt the need to do things properly and right now more than ever.

Still, as the shower inside sounded throughout the entire cabin, Alex smiled. Maybe that was a good thing, his one last need to be perfect. Maybe it meant he was moving on, and this assignment was his chance at some closure.

It took a moment for Alex to pull himself out of his thoughts, redirecting his attention back to his work as he adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose, when there came a knock at the door.

The sound was fast, strong, urgent. Alex blinked, his brows furrowed, and given the fact that the shower suddenly stopped, he bet the one inside had noticed the desperation of the knock, too.

Alex carefully put his work papers on his armchair, reached under the seat, and pulled out one of the many guns he had hidden. Some might’ve called him paranoid, but Alex thought overprotective might’ve been a better fit. After all, he wasn’t exactly alone in the cabin.

He moved to the door, his weapon up. “Who is it?” he called, his voice stable and free of suspicion. He heard nothing for a moment, then as he was about to ask again, a familiar voice replied, “Alex, it’s me.”

Alex’s frown deepened, his weapon lowered in an instant. He hated that. He hated how he could tell who it was just by the voice. _Alex, it’s me_. His visitor hadn’t even bothered mentioning his name, and Alex hated how he knew he wouldn’t have to. Because _of course_ the airman would know who it was. And what was worse, just from those few words, Alex knew there was something seriously wrong.

“ _Alex_ ,” he heard, and instantly set the gun on a small coffee table beside a flower vase. He opened the door, and Michael came falling into his arms. “Alex, Alex,” Michael muttered over and over, his grip bruising as he tightly held onto Alex’s arms, his face in Alex’s shoulder.

“Oh my God,” Alex breathed, and all but fell to his knees with Michael’s weight on his. The cowboy had bruises and cuts all over his hands, his face and clothes covered in blood, and as he repeated Alex’s name, Alex noticed his voice growing raspier, the sound of his name quieter.

“Kyle!” he called, then as Michael’s eyelids drooped, he yelled again, “Kyle!”

“What’s going on?” he heard, then Kyle entered wearing nothing but a towel around his hips, his body and hair still soaked. His eyes fell on Alex, then on Michael, and he ran up to them. “What the hell happened?!”

“I don’t know,” Alex shook his head, his hold on Michael tightening. Michael’s eyes traveled slowly to Kyle, but either he didn’t see him or he didn’t care that Kyle was there because no matter what, he kept repeating Alex’s name, like it was the only thing he knew to say.

“Kyle, help me get him on his feet,” Alex barely managed to say before Michael’s eyes shut, and Alex felt something in him, something familiar and dark and frightening, break.

*

“You should probably change.”

Michael had felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness for the past several hours, though he had no way of actually figuring out how much time had passed. He knew he was on a large bed, and in front of him, at the foot of it, was Alex. Even through the blurriness in his eyes, Michael _knew_ he was looking at Alex, but the airman wasn’t looking at him.

Kyle Valenti suddenly came into view, wearing sweatpants that Michael knew belonged to Alex. He softly pressed his fingers against Alex’s jaw and Alex closed his eyes, obviously tired.

“Alex,” Kyle repeated, and Michael noticed he was holding a deep blue Air Force sweater in his hands, “come on, give me your shirt.”

Alex looked down at his white sweater now covered in blood – _Michael’s blood_ , the cowboy realized – as if just realizing it was stained.

Alex sighed, nodding slightly before he reached down, pulling his shirt up. Kyle reached down and took the hem, pulling the shirt over Alex’s head. He then helped Alex into his military sweater, and instead of leaving afterwards, he took a seat beside Alex, their knees touching.

Michael tried swallowing past the lump in his throat. He had had nightmares as he slept, nightmares of other aliens, nightmares of his brother and sister as they fought, nightmares of being ambushed and attacked. Everyone had gotten out safely from the battle, and Michael hadn’t even had the worst of it, but he wouldn’t let Max heal him. The alien had tortured him with images of Alex, visions of the airman dying in his arms. Before his brother could touch him, Michael had gotten in his truck and driven like a madman, desperate to see the airman, to know that his Alex – _his_ Alex – was okay.

He just hadn’t expected anything like this.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Kyle asked, his hand stroking Alex’s back. “I’ll keep watch.”

Without even finishing his sentence, Alex was already shaking his head. “No, I – I need to be here.”

“Alex, you don’t owe him anything.”

Alex said nothing for a moment, then, “He was saying my name, Kyle.” Kyle didn’t respond, his face hidden, though his hand stayed on Alex’s lower back. Michael wished he would move it. Alex kept his eyes on the doctor’s face, then he asked, “Are you mad at me?”

Michael felt his fingers twitch. Alex was quiet, almost _worried_. He didn’t want Kyle to be upset with him, he didn’t want Kyle to _leave_ him. _This isn’t happening_ , Michael thought, the same panic that had overtaken him in his visions creeping back now. _This couldn’t be happening._

“Alex, no,” Kyle said, his other hand coming up to cup Alex’s cheek. “No, I’m not mad. I get it. You loved him.”

Michael felt his jaw clench despite himself. _Loved_.

“Hey,” Alex said, his tone comforting as he held onto Kyle’s arm with both hands. “You can’t love someone if you don’t trust them. And I trust _you_.”

Michael stared at Alex, ignoring the burn in his eyes and the lump growing in his throat, forbidding him from breathing properly. He knew that Alex didn’t trust him, he’d been told before. It had burned every part of his soul then, to know that the one person who had always managed to love him no matter what, no longer had any faith in him.

But Michael could actually feel his heart bleed to know that that trust he didn’t know he valued so much had been taken away from him, and given to someone else. He didn’t know what to do with that. He didn’t know how to wake up from that kind of nightmare.

“Well,” he heard, and Michael’s attention snapped back to Kyle who was watching him out of the corner of his eye, “looks like sleeping beauty’s awake.”

Alex blinked as if having been deep in thought, and he looked to Michael who was watching Kyle intently.

“Yeah,” Kyle said, and stood, Alex’s hands falling to his and holding on. “I get the hint, Guerin, I’m leaving.”

“What?” Alex was just starting to say, and Michael was surprised that the airman sounded almost afraid of being left alone with him.

“Just to the next room,” Kyle reassured him, pressing a kiss to Alex’s forehead. Alex closed his eyes, as if gaining strength from the doctor’s touch, and with a last comforting look at Alex, and a quick warning glance at Michael – _don’t you_ dare _hurt him_ , Michael could almost hear him say – Kyle left the bedroom.

Michael kept his eyes on the door that Kyle had just walked out of, even through the five whole minutes of silence, even as Alex’s gaze slowly turned to him, even as Alex opened his mouth to speak.

“You and Valenti,” Michael beat him to it, his voice distant to his own ears.

“What happened to you, Guerin?” Alex asked, his voice quiet.

“You avoiding the question?”

“I wasn’t the one bleeding in your arms a few hours ago,” Alex said with an edge to his voice, and Michael moved his gaze to the airman to see that the eyes looking back at him were dark. _So Alex still feels something for me_ , Michael thought. He couldn’t have been so angry and worried if he didn’t. Right?

“I’m okay now, aren’t I?”

“I thought you were dying.”

“I’m fine –”

“ _I thought you were dying_ , Guerin,” he said through grit teeth.

Michael stared, then groaned as he struggled to sit up. Alex was by his side in under a second, putting the pillows up behind him. The bed was unmade, and Michael couldn’t help but wonder what Alex and Kyle had been doing before he’d gotten here.

He looked up, Alex still fixing the pillows, his eyes running over Michael’s body as if he expected to find an open wound somewhere. Michael was still in his own clothes, stained with blood. The sight seemed to make Alex linger at his side.

Michael swallowed, then held his arms up. At first, Alex didn’t move, then his eyes filled with tears and he fell against Michael’s chest, his arms coming around his waist. Michael wrapped his arms around him tightly, his nose in his hair, inhaling his scent. Alex’s hair had gotten longer. He felt the cool press of Alex’s prosthetic against his leg, Alex’s warm cheek against his chest, and he held on so impossibly tight, neither he nor Alex could breathe. But he didn’t care, and he didn’t let go.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered against Alex’s forehead. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Alex said nothing, only breathing heavily in Michael’s hold, his arms tightening around his waist.

“I had to see you, Alex. All I could think of was seeing you.”

“Will you tell me what happened?”

“Does it matter?” Michael breathed, pushing the images of Alex hurt and dying away as he pressed a hard kiss to Alex’s forehead. “We’re together now.”

That seemed to awaken something in Alex, and despite Michael’s attempt to hold on, the airman pulled back, frowning. “What? No, Guerin, we’re not together.”

“Alex,” Michael shook his head, “I get it, you’re upset with me, but this thing with _Valenti_ –”

“He’s the one that helped you, you know,” Alex said, turning away, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed, like he was about to get off. Michael felt fear suddenly consume him, and he reached out, taking hold of Alex’s wrist. “He cleaned you up.”

“Alex, _come on_ ,” Michael said, his hold on Alex’s wrist tightening, keeping him close. “It’s Kyle, you can’t actually be dating Kyle.”

“Let me go, Guerin,” Alex tugged on his wrist, but Michael held on tighter. Alex sighed. “Guerin –”

“Okay,” he relented, though even he could hear the strain in his voice. “Okay, Alex, I’m sorry, I won’t say anything else about him or us. Just… don’t go.”

Alex hesitated, and Michael slowly tugged on his arm, trying to bring him back. Alex shook his head, and moved to stand. “I should go get you some water.”

“Screw the water,” Michael said, pulling the airman back in against his chest. “I don’t want the water, I just want you to stay in here.”

Alex’s fists rested against Michael’s chest for all of two seconds before he was shaking his head, sighing. “Guerin, I can’t,” he said, and moved off. Before Michael could reach for him again, he was off the bed. He sat in the armchair next to the bed where Michael couldn’t touch him, leaning forward on his knees.

“So that’s it, huh?” Michael let his hands fall onto the bed, unable to help the hurt from his voice. “You moved on, and I have no say in it?”

“I didn’t realize I needed your permission to be happy,” Alex said.

Michael’s jaw ticked. “Happy,” he repeated. “So you’re – you’re _happy_ with Valenti.”

“Guerin –”

“Tell me something, Alex, how long have you guys been together?”

“Stop it –”

“No, I want to know about the epic love story, tell me,” he pushed. “Tell me about your first kiss, your first time – does he make butterflies flutter in your stomach?”

“Damn it, Guerin, can’t you just once talk like a person instead of acting like a dick?” Alex snapped, and Michael fell silent. Alex didn’t look particularly angry, just frustrated and sad, as if he’d been terrified of having this conversation with Michael, and it was turning out exactly as he feared it would. Michael wondered if he would ever manage to do something other than what Alex expected of him.

Alex sighed, his hands running through his hair before he shook his head. “I’m tired of feeling like the bad guy, Guerin. I didn’t do anything wrong, I _didn’t_. Why do you keep punishing me?”

“Because I love you, and it feels like you don’t even _like_ me anymore!” Michael snapped, and Alex blinked, surprised, his brows furrowed.

“I love you, too, Guerin,” he said softly. “I just can’t be with you.”

Michael swallowed heavily. “Because you don’t trust me.”

Alex sighed, rubbing his face, and Michael briefly wondered what the time was and how long Alex had spent watching over him. _Too long_ , part of him thought.

“I don’t want you to leave me,” he confessed, his voice quiet.

Alex looked up, staring at Michael for a moment before he stood and sat beside Michael on the bed. “You’re not losing me,” he said.

Michael shook his head. “Then why does it feel like I am?”

There was a soft knock at the door and Kyle stepped in. If he was surprised at how close Michael and Alex were, if he was uncomfortable or upset at all, he didn’t show it. Michael thought maybe this was just what trust looked like.

_I trust_ you, Alex had said, and Michael saw it now, the way Alex looked back at Kyle without the slightest guilt or doubt, as if he had no reason to shy away, as if he really hadn’t thought of kissing Michael. The thought left Michael feeling heavier than ever.

“Max is here,” Kyle said, and Michael blinked.

“You called my brother?”

Kyle nudged at Alex with his chin. “Alex asked me to.”

Michael looked back to Alex. Alex said nothing, and looked to the door when Max came in.

“Michael, I’ve been looking for you,” Max breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his brother, his own face covered in bruises and cuts that he obviously hadn’t healed yet, but Michael’s eyes were only on Alex. “Come on,” Max said, “let’s get you home.”

_Home_. There was a time Alex had been his home. Alex had told him once that he was his family, and Michael had screamed that he didn’t love him. The next day, he’d left Alex waiting for him with his heart in his hands. He’d abandoned Alex when he’d needed him.

He swallowed, accepting Max’s hand up. He couldn’t look at Alex as he left, though he knew the airman had gone to Kyle’s side.

When they were in Max’s car, the cabin door closed behind them, the lights still on inside, Max turned to Michael and said, “When that alien tortured us, he showed me visions of Liz dying. Of Isobel and you suffering. Is that what he showed you? Alex hurt? Is that why you came to see him?”

Michael said nothing, but Max nodded after a moment, as if he understood. _But he never could_ , Michael thought. He hadn’t hurt Liz, he hadn’t turned on her love, he hadn’t destroyed his only other half.


	29. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex saw Michael and Maria together, and is trying to process.

Alex sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, his prosthetic foot crossed over the other. He didn’t know how long it’d been since he’d had his head against his kitchen wall, his phone ringing in front of him, but it felt like hours.

The name _Guerin_ flashed on the screen as the phone vibrated with every ring, inching closer to Alex as if begging to be picked up, but Alex wouldn’t. He still remembered Michael and Maria several hours ago, when the sky had gone pitch black and Alex had gone to the Wild Pony to look for his cowboy after an entire day of waiting, the way they’d been glued together.

_Come back tomorrow_ , Michael had said, _we’ll talk then._

Alex had said nothing in return, only walked out. His expression had remained numb, his mind silent as he speedily drove back to his cabin, parked his car, took off the dark clothes that in an instant had stopped making him feel comfortable and made him feel foolish instead, and put on his sweats and Air Force sweater. He expected to be sobbing by now, tears streaking his face, his throat sore with his cries, but he was still unable to feel anything. He slowly came down to lie on the tiled floor, his head pillowed on his arms, staring at his phone.

His entire body, especially his leg, ached with how long he’d been sitting in that chair, waiting for someone that wouldn’t come. He felt like an idiot. He’d told Michael that he was his family, that he didn’t want him to leave, that he’d wanted to be a better fighter for him. In all those instance, Alex now realized, Michael had never said anything back. He’d never told Alex he loved him, or that he valued him, or that he even wanted him around. Alex had gone on to rely on Michael, to see only what he wanted to see, hear what he wanted to hear. In actuality, Alex wondered how long ago Michael had stopped seeing him as anything more than someone from his past, someone he had to humor.

_He never cared about you_ , a voice in his mind crept in. _You were just there for sex. He never wanted anything with you. Look at you, you’re a broken toy, inside and out. Who’d ever want you?_

Alex exhaled shakily, closing his eyes. _Please go away_ , he begged the thoughts. _Leave me alone._

The phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing, and Alex slowly reached out. He stared at Michael’s name flashing (Maria, he guessed, had known better than to call), and he swiped to answer. He held the phone to his ear, staring straight ahead into space, and said nothing as Michael’s voice sounded.

“Alex,” he breathed. Had he been running? “Alex, are you there? Alex?”

“I’m here,” Alex said, his voice quiet and distant, even to his own ears.

“Alex,” Michael said. “Can – Can we talk? Can I see you?” Alex said nothing. It was guilt, he knew. That was why Michael was trying to fix things now. He felt guilty about Alex finding out the way he did. It meant nothing.

Had he wanted to tell Alex himself? Had he wanted him and Maria to talk to Alex first? Had he wanted to get Alex’s blessings? To know that it was okay to move on? Alex shut his eyes tight. It didn’t matter. Michael had chosen someone else. Alex had been waiting for him, and he had chosen someone else.

“Alex, please say something. Tell me where you are.”

“Did you forget?” Alex couldn’t help but ask. “Or did you do it on purpose?”

A pause, then, “What do you mean?”

“Did you forget that you had asked me to come over? That we’d talk? Or did you leave me there on purpose?”

“ _Alex_ ,” Michael breathed, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. _Seems fair_ , Alex thought. He, after all, still couldn’t believe what he’d seen at the Wild Pony. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

_But he would_ , the taunting voice continued. _He already has._

“I don’t believe you,” Alex whispered. It was a fact. He couldn’t trust anything Michael said anymore.

“ _Where are you?_ ”

“I’m home,” Alex said, and there was shuffling on the other line, like Michael was getting into his car. The thought brought a chill to Alex’s bones. He didn’t want to see Michael. He didn’t want to talk to Michael. He didn’t want anything to do with Michael, not anymore. The cowboy was no longer anything but a reminder that Alex was his father’s son. A Manes doesn’t deserve reassurance or comfort. A Manes doesn’t deserve love. Alex was a fool to think he was any different.

“Okay, uh – where – where is that?”

_Of course_ , Alex thought. Michael had never been to his cabin, had never bothered to ask where it was. He’d never come to talk to Alex, had never sought Alex out. Why had Alex ever thought that Michael wanted to be with him?

_“We’ve been holding onto this thing!”_ Michael had once said to him, and Alex felt stupid never to realize how right he had been. He himself had held onto that day, over ten years ago now, that Michael had told him he liked him, ignoring the tragedy that followed – the one that’s _been_ following since.

“Alex, where are you? You have to tell me, Private, come on,” Michael urged, and Alex’s fingers tightened on his phone. Why couldn’t he cry? Shouldn’t he be crying right now? Shouldn’t he want to scream and get angry? What was wrong with him? Then it hit him, the reason he felt nothing, the reason he felt like he had no right to.

“We weren’t dating,” he said, and the other line went silent. “You didn’t cheat on me, Guerin, you didn’t betray me. You just liked someone else. And we weren’t dating,” he repeated, the need to remind himself stronger now than ever.

“Alex,” Michael said, and Alex couldn’t fail to notice the panic in his voice now. _Lies_ , Alex thought. _Or guilt_. It couldn’t be anything more than that.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Please just tell me where you are.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been bothering you,” he said numbly.

“Alex –”

“I won’t do it again.”

“ _Please_ ,” he begged, “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry, I just want to talk to you.”

“I don’t really want to talk to you anymore,” he said, his voice barely over a whisper. “Please don’t call me.”

“Alex!”

But Alex never heard what Michael wanted to tell him because he ended the call and turned off his phone, letting it fall to the floor. He had given Michael his chance to speak up, to say _anything_ that showed Alex how much he wanted to be with him, but the cowboy never did. Alex now supposed it was because Michael had just never wanted it. Nothing he said now would make any difference.

Alex closed his eyes, curling in on himself. Michael would be fine, he always was. Maybe Maria would comfort him now, tell him he had no reason to be guilty. She would be right. He had none. Alex didn’t think he could talk to her either now. He couldn’t imagine a time where he could look her in the eye. Maybe that would change, but he honestly doubted it.

Alex curled in deeper on himself. Kyle would probably try to call him at some point, and he would get worried when Alex wouldn’t answer. He’d come to check on him in the cabin, and he knew where the extra key was hidden, so he’d come in and find Alex like this. Alex would have to remember to get up before then. Kyle always worried too much.

_Just a few more minutes_ , he thought as he hugged his arms, trying not to think of how stupid he felt when he had hit on Michael, when he had kept trying to talk to him in Caulfield, when he’d come to the airstream expecting Michael to actually be _happy_ to see him.

_“Now’s not really a good time, Alex.”_

So, _so_ stupid. Alex made a decision then not to see Michael again, not to _speak_ to Michael or about him to anyone. Not even his best friend. When Kyle got here, Alex would be happy, productive, and _fine_. Michael Guerin was part of his past, and he had to move forward without him.

The thought made Alex curl in even deeper on himself. Maybe the tears would come later.


	30. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is jealous of Sam Winchester.

Michael hated Supernatural. He loved the pre-show ritual he and Alex had; bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of them, the blanket draped over them as Alex lay against Michael on the couch, his head resting on Michael’s chest as Michael’s fingers ran through his soft dark brown strands. He loved the way Alex casually stretched an arm over Michael’s whenever he got tired, the way he tightened his hold on Michael’s waist when he was trying to get comfy, the way he sighed deeply into Michael’s shirt as he dozed off.

But Michael hated Supernatural. He hated the way Alex couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the screen whenever Sam Winchester spoke, the way his breath hitched in his throat with every one of the hunter’s shirtless scenes, the way he breathed “wow” in amazement whenever Sam beat down a demon or cracked a case.

There were times, like tonight, when Alex had had a very long day hacking into secret files, breaking impossible codes, his eyes in front of a screen and his body in intense physical therapy that when they sat down for the episode, he all but fell asleep against his boyfriend. Michael struggled with those nights because while he hated seeing Alex tired, he loved the way the airman would curl up on his chest, the way he’d keep his fist tight on Michael’s shirt, the way he breathed softly against Michael’s collarbone, his long lashes fluttering against his rosy cheeks. And above all, he _loved_ the fact that Alex couldn’t have cared less what the Winchesters were doing.

“You tired?” he asked, his lips against Alex’s hair. He inhaled the airman’s scent of wood and maple syrup, and his heart ached. He had been dying to touch his boyfriend all day, yearned to have his body close. Now that he was, Michael felt himself able to lean back and watch the episode without worry.

Alex hummed, snuggling his face deeper into Michael’s chest, and Michael bit his lower lip to refrain from laughing. He pressed a kiss to Alex’s forehead, and Alex moaned, nuzzling against Michael’s neck.

“You’re gonna miss the episode,” Michael muttered, not caring at all about their show as he ran a hand down Alex’s back then up again. Alex’s arm around Michael’s waist tightened as he lifted his head off his chest, a sign he’d woken up.

“Mm, I’m awake,” Alex said groggily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “I’m watching.”

Michael glanced at the screen, then back at Alex, gently coaxing him back onto his chest. Him and his big mouth. “Alex, I was kidding, we don’t have to watch.”

“We always watch,” Alex said with furrowed brows. Michael couldn’t help but understand where he was coming from. Since his enlistment had ended, he’d been up to his ears in more decoding and Project Shepherd work that the only time he could will enough energy to stay awake was now, when Supernatural was on. Sure, Michael cursed the moment he suggested it, especially when he found out that the reason Alex had been so willing to stay awake was because he had a crush on one of the Winchester brothers, but at least they got this time together.

“ _I_ always watch,” Michael couldn’t help but say as Alex moved to sit up, out of his hold. “ _You_ always fawn over Sam.”

“What?” Alex chuckled tiredly. “No, I don’t.”

“You know I love you, Private, but yes, you do.” Michael realized there was an edge to his voice, but there was nothing he could do about it. He never thought he would ever love someone the way he loved Alex, and he knew Alex loved him, but he still managed to get jealous at anything that grabbed his boyfriend’s attention. Alex was _his_ ; he didn’t want the airman’s eyes wandering anywhere else.

Alex stared. “You’re really upset about this.”

“No, I’m not,” Michael lied. “I don’t even care. Fantasize about him all you want.”

“ _Fantasize_?” Alex laughed. “Guerin, come on, don’t leave,” he tugged on Michael’s arm as he moved to stand and pulled him back down, resting on top of him to keep him still. Michael looked down at his boyfriend with pursed lips, though he couldn’t help but bring an arm around his waist, keeping him against him. “I’m not in love with Sam Winchester.”

Michael shrugged, scratching his brow. “I don’t actually really care.”

Alex rested his chin on Michael’s chest, his finger lightly tapping Michael’s jaw. “Kind of sounds like you do.”

“Is this why you try to stay awake?” he asked, and Alex’s eyes widened slightly, startled, before he burst into laughter. “No, I’m seriously asking, Alex, is it because you just love the guy?”

“You’re so cute, I can’t believe you’re actually jealous!”

Michael tried not to blush at being called cute, and had he not worried about Alex moving off him again, he would’ve sat up. “I’m not jealous, he’s a fictional character, why would I be jealous?”

Alex’s eyes softened and he kissed Michael’s chest before he said, “You know you’re the only person I’ve ever _fawned_ over.” He kissed higher, his lips tickling Michael’s neck, making his eyes flutter. “If I’m going to fantasize about anyone, it’s going to be you.”

Michael tilted his head, Alex’s eyes on his, hardly caring that the episode was going on in the background. “Yeah?”

Alex’s eyes fell to Michael’s lips and he nodded, his smile widening in that way it did when he saw something he liked. Michael realized now that Alex had never looked at Sam Winchester, or _anyone_ else that way.

“You’re Michael Guerin,” Alex said, and Michael tried not to let his breath hitch at the sound of his first name leaving Alex’s lips. “What do _you_ have to be worried about?”

“Tall guys,” Michael joked. “First Valenti –”

“No Valenti –”

“Then Sam –”

“Again, I’m not in love with a Winchester –”

“You obviously have a type, Private.”

Alex looked amused, though as his eyes roamed Michael’s face, Michael saw something aside the fondness and the humor. Something hot and strong. “Tall guys,” he guessed, and Michael shrugged.

Alex bit his lower lip, and touched a light finger to Michael’s mouth. “Actually,” he said, his voice quiet and igniting a fire already burning hot in Michael’s gut. “It’s more like…” his lips hovered over Michael’s, barely brushing, “ _hairy_ guys.”

And Alex took Michael’s mouth in his in a long, sensual kiss. Michael moaned, chasing Alex’s lips when he pulled away. He brought a hand to the back of Alex’s head and pulled him back down, kissing him again. Michael felt Alex’s fingers slowly unbuttoning his shirt, the airman’s tongue brushing against his as Alex brought a hand down Michael’s chest to his stomach, feeling his skin, his chest hair, his nipples, his bellybutton.

Michael moaned as Alex’s hand came around his naked waist under his shirt, pulling his body up to his.

“Wait wait wait,” Alex said against Michael’s lips just as Michael grabbed the hem of his shirt, “shouldn’t we – shouldn’t we finish the episode?”

“Episode?” Michael blinked, still in a haze, his only focus being Alex’s lips, his eyes, his hands on his body. “What episode?”

Alex glanced at the television, and for a second, Michael actually thought he would return his attention to the Winchester brothers, but then he looked back to Michael, his brows furrowed. “I have no idea.”

“That’s what I thought,” Michael growled before he pulled Alex back down and climbed on top of him. “ _No one_ can ever have you, Alex, no one but me. Not even in a fantasy.”

Alex shook his head, his eyes twinkling and his cheeks red as he held Michael’s face with a tenderness Michael had only ever known from the airman. “Would you believe me if I told you it was all in your head?”

Michael stared, then pressed his lips against Alex’s. Not a kiss, just a touch. “I _know_ what you look like when you want someone, Alex.”

“All I’ve ever wanted is _you_ ,” Alex said, smiling at Michael in a way that made his cheeks heat up. It was the kind of smile that said he couldn’t believe how cute Michael was, how lucky he was to have the cowboy there, how much he undoubtedly _loved_ him. He couldn’t believe Michael doubted his feelings at all. “You do realize that every time we watch Supernatural, your hand goes up my shirt.”

“It –” Michael frowned. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes, it does,” Alex said, kissing Michael’s jaw. “Or you’ll run your fingers through my hair, or you’ll kiss my forehead, or you’ll rub small circles on my shoulders or back. You’re always touching me, Guerin,” he whispered. “It’s like you can’t stop.”

“I…” Michael trailed off, his brows furrowing. When he thought about it, he realized Alex was right. He always held him close during the beginning of the episode, but when Alex’s attention started drifting to the Winchesters, Michael realized he had the habit of running his hands up and down Alex’s sides, or tugging on his strands, or the hem of his shirt, or the belt on his jeans.

Then it hit him.

“I’m the one turning you on,” he said, realization dawning.

Alex chuckled, his breaths raspier now as Michael – once again – unconsciously scratched down his back with his nails. “Every time –” he swallowed, “every time the episode starts, it’s like sex is at the front of your mind. You’ve really never noticed?”

_No_ , he almost said. He hadn’t. Alex’s gasps, his moans, his twinkling eyes, all because _Michael_ was touching him. But Michael had been so bothered about Kyle having the pleasure to stand by Alex all day that he let his jealousy extend to the show, believing Alex was falling for another man.

“It’s okay,” Alex shook his head. “The first few times, I thought you were doing it on purpose. Then I realized it was unconscious. I figured it was just a habit, so I never said anything. But I had no idea you’d actually think I was lusting after the Winchesters.”

Michael’s brows furrowed, but a smirk played at his lips. “Just so I’m clear here, you _want_ me to touch you?”

Alex bit his lower lip, his smile widening as Michael began pulling his shirt up. “What do you know? It only took you fourteen seasons, but you finally got there.”


	31. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has been taken by Jesse's men.

It was after midnight when Alex heard it. It wasn’t just the military that trained him to wake at the drop of a hat, but the years before it, too. When you had Jesse Manes as a father, you learned to be a light sleeper. That was why he heard it when his front door opened, and he blinked out of his sleep, the papers pulled from a Project Shepherd file scattered around him. He’d fallen asleep in the middle of work again. He bent in his chair, picking the papers up.

_Kyle_ , he thought when he heard footsteps. Kyle knew where the spare key was, and he’d warned Alex he would be out late for a surgery before he managed to get back. Alex had insisted on waiting up for him for reasons he could not remember. All he knew was that it was easier to wait for Kyle than it was for Michael. At least when Kyle said he would be back, he actually showed up.

Alex rubbed his forehead where it had been resting on his desk. “Kyle?” he asked, his voice hoarse. He checked the time on his phone. Right around when Kyle said he’d be back.

Alex put every paper back into its file as he contemplated asking Kyle to stay over again. The last time the doctor had slept here, Alex had insisted that Kyle would be better off sleeping on his large bed with him as oppose to the hard couch.

“We’re adults,” Alex had said, though his heart had hammered in a way he didn’t think it would at the prospect of sleeping next to his friend. “We can share a bed.”

Alex had woken up with Kyle’s arm around his waist, breathing softly against the back of Alex’s neck as he pulled him close against him. Alex had started to pull away when Kyle had suddenly muttered his name in his sleep, and Alex had frozen.

He didn’t know why he had lied back down then; maybe just an effort to keep Kyle asleep, maybe because the pain in his leg made it impossible for him to properly move at the time, maybe because it had been cold and he wanted warmth more than he wanted distance. Maybe he liked the way Kyle’s muscled arms felt around him, the way the doctor tightly held on even in his sleep as if afraid Alex would disappear, the way he softly breathed against Alex’s skin.

Alex shook his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts. He was overthinking, as usual. He’d tell Kyle it was late, that he should crash here for the night, and accept whatever answer with a shrug. It was only when he heard something fall to the ground and crash, a vase, that he froze halfway to his door. The sound had completely woken him, and he made out the sound of not one, but at least _four_ different pairs of footsteps making their way around the cabin.

He stood carefully by the door, his leg aching from having slept with it at an awkward angle. He slowly pulled the door open, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of the four armed, uniformed men – _military_ , Alex briefly registered – quietly going through his home, opening the door opposite Alex to his bedroom and peering inside. Alex pulled back, his jaw clenched. He felt the soldier in him come alive in a microsecond, the sleep gone, and his fear pushed aside as he soundlessly hurried to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a gun taped to the top.

*

Kyle’s bones were aching. He’d been standing for hours, every fiber in his body concentrating so intensely on the surgery that by the time it was over, Kyle had been ready to collapse. The patient’s family shook his hand and hugged him with tears in their eyes, his colleagues had patted him on the back and congratulated him on a job well done, but at the end of it all, Kyle found himself most excited to see one person, to hear a single “good job” that he had forgotten dinner with his friends, and all but rushed in and out of the locker room, changed out of his scrubs and doctor’s coat, and got into his car.

_Alex_ , he thought, and smiled as he pulled into the cabin’s driveway. How would Kyle have told everyone that he’d been dying to see Alex? That he couldn’t hang out with them because he was exhausted and he’d wanted nothing more than to see the airman? That he’d told someone he was coming, and had to go? He couldn’t make any sense of it himself, how would he explain it to others?

He thought of Alex waiting up for him, of maybe falling asleep in front of the tv or his work while he sat. Part of him hoped Alex would suggest he stay over again. The last time, he’d woken up to Alex in his arms, and though he couldn’t recall what dream he’d been having, he knew it was a good one. He desperately needed sleep like that again.

He shook his head to himself, huffing out a chuckle as he stepped out of his car and made his way to Alex’s front door. Kyle briefly noted that the lights were off, and he wondered with a sudden pang in his chest if Alex had been waiting for him at all. He used the flashlight on his phone to find the spare key hidden under the potted plant, and pressed it into the lock. He frowned.

_The door’s already open_ , he thought, and slowly pushed it wide. Had Alex forgotten to lock it? Alex _never_ forgot to keep security up.

“Alex?” he called, but he got no answer. Maybe the airman really had fallen asleep. “Alex, you up?” He stepped inside, and froze when his foot hit something that cracked like glass.

He pointed the flashlight at the floor, and his frown deepened. “What the hell?” he muttered, and quickly moved to the wall beside the door, flipping the light switch on.

He gasped, his heart jumping into his throat. The entire floor had been covered in glass, water, and trampled flowers, and the walls and furniture had what looked like bullet holes in them.

“No,” Kyle breathed, and ran to every room, looking for the airman. “Alex?” panic seeped into his chest as he received no reply, every room seemingly untouched. “Alex!”

Then he dashed into Alex’s study, and stopped. The windows were shattered, the files still visible and burning in the fireplace, and there was glass and something dark on the floor, something that Kyle had spent too much time in an operating room not to recognize.

Kyle ran outside as quickly as his legs could carry him. He looked around for any trace of a car, of Alex’s crouched figure maybe hiding somewhere, of any sign Alex might’ve left him but he found nothing.

“Damn it,” Kyle panted, dialing a number on his phone and holding it up to his ear. “Damn it, damn it, damn it – Liz, I need – yes, I know what time it is, _listen to me_ – I need you to get Max, Isobel, and Michael to the lab. Yes, _now_! I’ll explain later. Just hurry!”

*

Michael had been having a particular wet dream about a particular airman when he got the call that woke him up. At first, he’d been more than a little irritated, ready to blow up anyone on the other end (he didn’t know how far his powers would extend, but he was willing to experiment), but as his sister spoke, Michael had to force himself to listen, then try not to kill anyone on the ride over.

“The hell do you mean, _they took him_?” Michael asked, and he could hear his own frayed nerves as he paced the lab, his arms crossed so tightly that his muscles hurt. All Isobel had told him was that he had to get to the lab because Kyle Valenti was saying that Alex had disappeared, but the urgency in her tone told Michael that she hadn’t thought the doctor was lying.

“I mean, _they took him_ , Guerin!” Kyle ran an impatient hand through his hair. “Look, Alex and I are still working on Project Shepherd, we have been for a while, and about a week ago, we found out something that we knew would put us at risk.”

“Project Shepherd?” Max frowned. “That organization Jesse Manes set up in Roswell to hunt us down? It’s still running?”

“Of course it is,” Michael answered instead of Kyle, feeling as if he was watching himself speak from a distance, his thoughts on the airman. “Ever since Caulfield, Alex had found out that there were branches of Project Shepherd all over the country.”

Kyle nodded. “He’s been obsessed with shutting it down, it’s all he’s been able to think about. Discovering who the other heads are that Jesse had left in charge, and exposing them.”

“Cut the snake’s head off, and the rest of it dies,” Isobel muttered, realization dawning. “He’s trying to destroy each branch by going after its boss.”

“Let me guess,” Michael said, turning away from the others. “He found a head.”

Kyle shook his head. “He told me he’d be safe, he told me they’d never find us.”

“They came to his home,” Liz said, her voice laced with fear, her hand on Max’s arm unrelenting, as if hoping to use some of his strength to stand. “They knew exactly where to go.”

“Why his cabin?” Isobel asked, hugging her robe tighter around her as if cold. “Why not the bunker, isn’t that where all the work is?”

“Because he led them away from it,” Michael said slowly. _Of course Alex led them away from it._ “He promised Kyle nothing would happen to him, and nothing will because he’s taking the heat.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “He knew that if he didn’t lead them away from the bunker, they’d just keep looking until they found one of you two, so instead of let them find _you_ –”

“He led them straight to _him_ ,” Liz’s eyes widened, then she whispered, “Alex…”

“He couldn’t have known when or _if_ they’d even show up,” Max said. “It must’ve been lucky that Kyle happened to have work late tonight.”

“No, no,” Kyle shook his head, and Michael noticed his eyes wander away from the group, as if he was talking to someone else. “N-No, if that was true, he would’ve come to one of us, to _me_. He would’ve _warned_ us what would happen, he would’ve asked for help.”

“Alex never asks for help!” Michael snapped, and Max held up an arm, shaking his head. His eyes were filled with a compassion only Max Evans could have, but his stance was firm, as if ready to stop Michael from attacking Kyle. Michael stopped pacing, and leaned against a wall, hitting his head back. “Coming to any one of us for help would mean putting us in danger, and you know Alex,” he smirked, though every bone in his body vibrated, his heart raced in his chest, and his eyes burned as he imagined Alex dragged out of his own home. “He’s the hero.”

“You don’t get it,” Kyle shook his head. “I’m not _you_ , he _would have_ come to me.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed, his thoughts interrupted for a brief moment as he pushed himself off the wall. He hated the way Kyle talked about Alex, as if he was so confident the airman needed him, that he couldn’t help but be honest with him, couldn’t help but share everything with him. It was past midnight when Isobel had called, Michael realized.

“What the hell were you doing there?” he asked, his eyes narrowed at the doctor. “You found out at Alex’s cabin, why were you there?”

“Michael, this isn’t the time for that,” Max warned.

“You’re not having this talk with me, Guerin,” Kyle said, shaking his head, his smile humorless.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means,” Kyle said.

Michael’s jaw clenched. “If I had been there instead of you –”

“You know what? Yeah, probably, I’ll give you that,” he said. “If you had been there, Alex might still be here right now, but you weren’t.” He took a step closer. “Because he hates you, Guerin. You made sure he’d never want you near him again, didn’t you?”

Michael closed the distance between them before Max could say his name, grabbing Kyle but the collar of his shirt with both fists.

“Michael!” Max yelled the same time that Liz said, “Kyle, stop it!”

“You don’t know _anything_ about us,” Michael said through grit teeth. He resisted the urge to squirm in his own skin, to beat someone up or break something or both. Alex wasn’t here, and Michael needed him. He needed him to think, to calm down, to _breathe_ , but Alex wasn’t here.

_“You were right. You’re too much like him. I’m sorry, Alex, but you are.”_

Michael’s fists tightened on Kyle’s shirt as he remembered the words that had left his lips after Alex had found out about Michael and Maria. The look on Alex’s face still haunted him, still screamed _TRAITOR_ at him, even when Alex wasn’t around.

“I know Alex,” Kyle said simply, his voice barely over a whisper, his eyes red and scared. Scared for Alex, for losing him, for knowing that he was in danger now and he couldn’t be there to save him. “Do you?”

Before Michael could attempt to answer, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Enough,” Isobel said, her voice echoing in his head, making him release Kyle, stepping back.

“I get it, your nerves are on high right now,” she said, the echo dimming down as not even Kyle seemed to have the strength to say anything. “But if you want to help Alex, you have to focus. No more wasting time.”

Michael breathed through his nose, his jaw clenched so tightly he could taste blood. He stepped back until he felt the desk behind him. On the quick drive here, he had tried to remember what the last words Alex had said to him were. He didn’t know exactly, but he knew they couldn’t have been good because he remembered Alex had been crying. He’d made Alex cry.

He looked up to the rest of the group, Max and Isobel looking to him, as if asking if he was going to be okay, if he could make it through this, if he could clear his head long enough to concentrate. There was no question about it. Alex was gone, and Michael would never be able to breathe until he was back here, in his arms. Even if Alex told him to leave, even if he said he didn’t want to see Michael, even if he told Michael he hated him, Michael wanted him _here_.

With that thought in mind, he straightened, looked to Kyle, and roughly said, “Those Project Shepherd files you’ve been looking at – where are the copies?”


	32. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Kyle announce they're dating.

“You sure I shouldn’t have worn blue?” Kyle said, nervously patting down the tie on his suit as he looked around the ballroom.

“Yes, green brings out your eyes – would you calm down?” Alex asked, unable to help but chuckle as he brought Kyle’s hand down, holding it in his to keep him from adjusting his tie again.

“I’m calm, I’m fine,” Kyle said, and had he not been repeating it since before they’d left the cabin, Alex might’ve believed him.

His smile turned smaller. _If you’re having doubts, we can call this whole thing off_ , he almost said. He should’ve said it. There was still time to pull out, to pretend they’d just casually met up here, or that they’d agreed that Alex would drive them. But as nervous as he was, he found a larger part of him wanted to tell the truth.

He’d spent so much of his life terrified that his father was following him, that if he so much as held Michael’s hand, they would be hunted and punished for it. After Jesse was imprisoned for his covert operations, Alex had thought that would be the end, that he was free to be with Michael, to love and be loved by him. By Kyle had been the one waiting for him. Kyle had been the one to endure months of Alex pushing him out, of wanting to be alone, then – when he couldn’t take it anymore – of Alex’s cries.

Alex had started to realize that he was waiting to see Kyle, to hear about his day. When he insisted Alex eat, or sleep, or take a break from working, he found himself less annoyed and more grateful. And after a drunken night when the two of them had woken up together, naked and in the same bed, Alex had found that he only feared that Kyle would regret it. He’d pretended to go back to sleep when he felt Kyle stirring, and something in his heart sunk when he felt him move off the bed. Kyle had silently gotten dressed and left, and Alex thought that would be the end of it.

He certainly had _not_ expected to see the doctor back as soon as he managed to wash up and step out of his bedroom, freshly-bought bagels with strawberry jam and cream cheese on the kitchen counter.

“You’re dressed,” Kyle had said with a small smile, as if disappointed that Alex wasn’t still naked in bed, waiting for him.

“Er –” Alex barely managed to start before Kyle was suddenly in his space, his hand on Alex’s neck as he hesitated, then pressed a kiss to the airman’s lips. It was awkward and stiff, but Kyle’s hand had been warm on his skin, and he stayed in Alex’s space as if afraid of moving away. As if afraid Alex would disappear.

And maybe it was because Alex had never felt that, had never had anyone afraid to lose him, had never had anyone so unwilling to let go of him that he closed the distance before he realized what he was doing. Kyle made a startled noise in the back of his throat, but he quickly melted into the kiss, his arms coming around Alex’s waist, pulling him in. Kyle had been eager to take them back into the bedroom right then, their breakfast forgotten.

That had been two months ago, and somehow, they’d managed to keep it a secret since. It wasn’t like they’d planned to hide it, but anytime they were called, it was about Project Shepherd, so there was no question as to why they would be together. The only time Kyle held his hand in public was to help him steady himself after getting up too quickly, so no one ever questioned that either, and when Alex had brought an arm around Kyle’s waist, it was to grab the files off the desk beside him. No one had noticed anything different, and Alex would admit that maybe years of habit had pushed both him and Kyle to unconsciously be a bit more discreet, but there was always one pair of eyes that found them, always one person who watched them with narrowed eyes, who _knew_ something was different.

“Guerin,” Kyle said, and Alex snapped out of his haze to find Michael leaning against a wall, white shirt open at the collar, revealing a fair amount of chest hair. His hands were in his pockets, his black jacket open, his eyes on Alex. “Didn’t expect to see _you_ at one of these.”

Michael watched Alex as he smirked humorlessly. “It’s important to my sister, so I’m here.” He tilted his head, his smirk falling to something more real, something serious before he said, “See you guys showed up together. Funny coincidence at the door?”

Alex held Michael’s gaze. His heart still thrummed nervously in his chest at the sight of the cowboy, his fingers twitched as if aching to reach out and touch him, and he felt a nervousness he couldn’t deny as Michael’s eyes bore into his.

_But something’s different_ , Alex realized. When he looked at Michael, he didn’t think of that seventeen-year-old who had told him he liked him, who had taken him deep into the museum to kiss him, who had risked himself to save Alex from being strangled. He saw the Michael that taunted him for being afraid of his father, the Michael that snapped at him, the Michael who turned every serious conversation into a sex joke, the Michael who had told Maria that things were over between them, who told Alex to come back so they could talk, who chose Maria when Alex had been waiting for him. The Michael who had never come after him, who had never even _asked_ about him, the Michael that hadn’t shown up.

“No,” Alex said simply, and Michael’s expression turned indescribable.

“You guys made it!” they suddenly heard and saw Liz hurry up to them, Max following behind with something akin to relief on his face.

Before Alex could get a word out, Liz had her arms around him, pulling him in for a tight hug.

“Hey,” she whispered, and pulled back to reveal a wide smile. Alex had the feeling she had doubted he would even show up. “You’re here.” She cupped his face. “You look great, you’re – are you good? How do you feel? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Alex saw Maria come in slowly behind Liz, and instead of coming to hug him, she stood by Isobel who had come to stand beside Max. Alex thought it was weird, to see his usually confident and excited friend so quiet, but maybe it was a good thing. He still couldn’t look her in the eye, not after what she’d done. In fact, it was still a little hard to completely accept Liz back into his life, too, but something eased in his chest at the sight of her.

After what had happened with Michael and Maria, Alex had been unable and unwilling to see much of anyone. Kyle was the only one who had never let him push anyone away, Kyle was the only one who kept coming back to see him, Kyle was the only one who downright _refused_ to have a new normal without Alex.

The thought made him smile softly, and he covered Liz’s hands with his own. He had Kyle here, beside him. That was all that mattered. “You know I’m just doing this for the attention, right?”

Liz blinked, startled, and laughed. The sound made Alex’s smile widen, and he pulled Liz in, hugging her tightly. He glanced at Maria and saw her look away. _Someday_ , he thought. Someday, things would be different. Never back to the way they used to be, that trust was shattered now, but different.

When Liz pulled back, she looked to Kyle and gave him a quick hug. It wasn’t something they normally did, Alex knew. Even Kyle looked surprised, but the look on Liz’s face when she pulled back, that look of gratitude, explained it all. _Thank you for bringing him back_ , Alex could almost hear her say, and the corners of Kyle’s lips quirked up.

He brought his hand up to the small of Alex’s back, leaning into him slightly as Liz turned to say something to Max.

“You look nervous,” Kyle muttered as he pulled a glass of champagne off a tray and handed it to Alex, and Alex searched his face.

_If you’re having doubts_ , the offer came again. What if Kyle _was_ having doubts about telling everyone? What if he was having doubts about _them_? What if he wasn’t ready? What if he would never be ready? What if he realized that a life with Alex would be a life with a Manes, and there was horror that came with that? What if he realized he was getting involved with a curse?

Alex rubbed his eyes, trying to subtly clear the thoughts away, though it did very little. “I’m not nervous,” he lied. “Are you?”

Kyle’s brows furrowed, though he still smiled as if he was happy just to be standing here with Alex, as if having Alex there made things easier. _Yeah_ , Alex thought. That was the thing about him. Everything always seemed easy at the beginning. That was how everybody got dragged in.

“What do you mean?”

Alex felt Kyle’s hand move from his lower back to his shoulder. Suddenly, the weight of what they were about to do dawned on him. If they did this, Kyle would be pulled into the storm, the one that always seemed to end with heartbreak and misery, the one Michael and Maria were both now a part of, all because they had _him_ to consider, because Alex Manes was a part of their lives.

“Hey, are you okay? Alex –”

“We can stop,” Alex cut him off, and Kyle frowned.

“What?”

“We can stop… _this_ , whatever it is, we can stop now. We don’t have to tell anyone, we don’t have to make anything out of it.”

They were speaking in hushed tones so that no one else could hear, but Alex could still _feel_ Michael’s glare on him. He even felt the glass between his fingers try to levitate out of his grasp, as if Michael was trying to get his attention, but Alex held on, his gaze focused on Kyle.

“Why are you telling me this?” Kyle asked, leading Alex a few steps away, his hold on Alex’s arm tight. “Do you – do you want to break up?”

_Yes_ , he should’ve said. He knew it would ultimately be what Kyle would want, it would be what was best. But when he spoke, the only words to leave his lips were, “No, not even a little bit. I want to be with you like I’ve been with you for the last two months.”

“So what’s the problem?” Kyle said, his voice rising desperately.

“I’ve seen what happens to people who stay with me,” Alex quietly confessed after a moment’s silence. “I’ve lost them all. I can’t lose you, too.”

Kyle said nothing, only searched Alex’s face for a moment before he took a deep breath, and nodded to himself, seemingly determined. Before Alex could ask, Kyle took the airman’s hand in his, returned them both to the group, and without warning, said, “Alex and I are dating.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look at them in surprise. Liz and Max who were talking and flirting, fell silent, even Maria and Isobel who were pointing and arguing about the decorations had their eyes wide, their shoulders slumped, and Michael had vanished completely. Alex had a feeling he had known this would be coming and decided to leave before he heard it.

_He_ , on the other hand, had not seen it coming quite like this. Kyle had his chin jutted out with the air of someone confident and fearless, ready to take on the fire-breathing dragon without armor, though his hand held Alex’s tightly enough to crack bone.

“Just… so you’re all aware,” he finished, slightly stammering his last few words, but he didn’t seem to care.

Alex noticed Isobel look to Michael, then registered the shock on her face when she found that he’d disappeared. Alex didn’t think it was that surprising. If anything, he was grateful for it. He had no idea what Michael would do if he saw the way Kyle so proudly announced that they were together.

But Alex couldn’t consider what Michael would do for too long, not when Kyle’s warm hand was in his, not when Kyle refused to let him go, not when he met every pair of eyes in the group with his, daring anyone to say a bad word. Alex almost wanted to laugh.

No one else seemed to know what to say, their eyes going between Kyle and Alex as if waiting for one of them to start cracking up and confess it was a joke. Alex couldn’t really blame them. Even _he_ didn’t see them coming.

Eventually, Liz was the first to speak up, her voice higher than normal as she said, “Okay! Okay, s-so – uh – okay! You guys are – okay, that – hey, that’s great! Isn’t that great?”

She nudged Max with her elbow, and he, glancing at the spot where Michael had been standing, said, “Y-Yeah – uh – whatever makes you happy, Alex.”

“That’s great, guys,” Maria said, her smile soft, and Alex nodded once. He didn’t know what was worse; everyone’s reactions, or the silence that followed when their congratulations were said. Then –

“The sex must be mind-blowing,” Isobel noted, her eyes raking Alex and Kyle up and down. “I mean, you two aren’t exactly –”

“Okay,” Maria cut her off as Max took the champagne glass from his sister’s hand. “Let’s go get you some water.”

“What? They look _good_ , I’m trying to – I’m being supportive!” Isobel complained as she was led away, and Alex couldn’t help but hide his face in Kyle’s shoulder. He was so relieved, he wanted to both cry and laugh at the same time. When he pulled back, he saw Kyle smiling down at him, his gaze focused on the airman.

“You…” he heard and blinked out of his thoughts of him and Kyle in bed in the morning, him and Kyle having meals together, him and Kyle watching tv together, and turned to Liz who was watching them with a soft expression on her face. “You’re smiling. You’re actually smiling, you haven’t smiled like that in years.”

Alex glanced at Kyle and looked away, his cheeks heated. He wished Liz wasn’t right, but when he thought about it, he realized that when he had Michael, all he did was cry. It felt _good_ to finally smile, to laugh, to be something other than miserable. And to have Kyle at his side as he felt that – that was even better.

“Sure,” Kyle suddenly said, wrapping an arm around Alex’s waist and pulling him against him. “I’ll take credit for that.”

Alex broke out into a wide smile, his heart filled with warmth. He nodded, just about to say that Kyle was “absolutely the reason for it,” when all the champagne glasses in their hands shattered, glass shooting everywhere.

It was only the four of them, but they were still distraught. “Damn it, Michael,” Max muttered as he checked Liz’s hand for any damage.

Alex looked around as Kyle took hold of his hand. “You okay? Alex, are you okay?”

Alex saw no sign of Michael, but turned back to Kyle, his hand tightening in his. He nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed, though he knew the cowboy’s answer was far different. “I’m fine.”


	33. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria comes to see Alex.

Alex discovered that the most frustrating part about losing his leg was struggling to do the simple things he used to do. Cleaning his kitchen, mopping up his home, vacuuming the carpets – never easy work, but it had been easier than it was now. He tried to take satisfaction in being able to dust his shelves while standing on a ladder, and managing not to fall over or having to sit down after five minutes, but he couldn’t find the strength. Even now as he rearranged his books, keeping them steady with one hand at the top of the ladder, his other setting each one in its proper place, Alex tried to be proud of himself for nearly finishing with his cleaning, but he felt tired. These days, all Alex felt was just _tired_.

He couldn’t get the picture of Michael and Maria out of his head. It was always there, in the back of his mind, taunting him. The explosions and gunshots of the war, the screams of his father, and now…

Alex shook his head, willing the thoughts away, and as he did, the book he was holding slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground. He stared at it and sighed. There was no point in thinking of those two anymore, he knew that. No point in wondering what Michael was doing, no point in wondering if he was eating properly, or sleeping enough. No point in thinking about going over with some excuse just to check on him. That wasn’t his job anymore.

His shoulders fell as he held on to the top of the ladder, ready to take the climb down when the book he’d dropped was suddenly in his face.

Alex blinked, and saw Maria standing there, at the bottom of the steps, her arm stretched toward him.

“Need some help?”

Alex wordlessly took his book back, and put it in its place as Maria stood there.

It took two seconds before she said, “Can we talk?”

“No,” Alex said, continuing his work as if she wasn’t there. After he was done with this, he _really_ needed to sit down. He’d put too much weight on his leg, having been on his feet, dusting and polishing, and fixing since he’d woken up. Now that he was standing still, the pain seemed to be trying to remind him that it was there.

He heard a sharp intake of breath. “Alex,” she said his name softly, and Alex couldn’t help but close his eyes.

_Why?_ he wondered. Why did she suddenly have to sound like everybody else? Alex had been all too used to having others speak to him like he was a tragedy, like they were just so _sorry_ that he had wanted things, that he had dared hope for happiness.

Maria had always sounded different. She’d said his name with a kind of daring, as if to ask; _well, why_ can’t _you want? Why can’t you need? You should! You deserve to._

But that had been before she had happened to want the same thing.

“Alex, I know you’re mad,” she tried, her voice hesitant, and Alex hated it. Since when was Maria hesitant about anything? “I know – I know you probably don’t want me here…”

Alex sighed and stopped rearranging. Maria realized he was climbing down, and put her hands up as if to steady him. Alex tensed when she touched him, relaxing only when she pulled away, and touched the ground. He rested his elbow on the ladder, and tilted his head at her, waiting for her to finish.

Maria swallowed, her sad eyes on him. “You’re really that mad at me?”

Alex rubbed his eyes. He was _exhausted_. He knew this interaction would come at some point, but he had hoped it never would. _Guilt spares no one, apparently._ Why did they have to do this? Alex knew they didn’t really care, that they just wanted the burden on their shoulders lifted so that they could be free to date without having to worry that they’d upset him. Didn’t they know it was all pointless? Didn’t they know he didn’t want to hear it?

“None of it matters, Maria,” Alex said, his voice hoarse from having not used it all day. “There’s nothing you can say.”

“Alex, I just want us to be friends again. I know you can’t forgive us now, but maybe someday you could find it in your heart to…” Maria trailed off, stepping closer, and Alex resisted the urge to step away.

He didn’t want anybody near him, _anybody_. The only person whose touch hadn’t made him flinch was Kyle, and that was after nearly two weeks of being together. But Alex didn’t think he could handle Maria’s hand on him, not when he knew that it had touched Guerin, had felt his curls, had rested over his heart. Alex closed his eyes, hiding his face behind his palms. He had to stop, or he would make himself sick.

“Alex, are you okay?”

Alex sighed, dropping his hands, his eyes still closed. “Michael chose my best friend,” he said, and Maria went quiet. “She was my family, and now she’s not. I can’t even look at her anymore. I can’t trust a word she says. I can’t even tell her I miss her.” He shrugged. “No, Maria, I’m not okay.”

Maria’s eyes were filled with tears as if she’d been holding them in since she’d arrived, but Alex’s were dry. He wished he could cry, or scream, or curse her out. He wished he felt something other than _this_. This empty, numb exhaustion.

“He told me you were over, I,” Maria shook her head. “He told me—”

“I don’t really care what he told you, Maria,” Alex said quietly, trying not to let the weight of Michael’s words sink his heart any deeper. “You knew how I felt. That was enough. It should’ve been enough.”

_He told me you were over._ Alex swallowed, looking away. Maybe there was a reason he couldn’t get angry. Maybe part of him had just known this would eventually happen. He had expected trouble to follow him ever since his mother had left, his father having made sure of that, and for a brief moment when he’d come to Michael’s airstream, when he’d confessed the truth to the man he loved, and told him that he had wanted to win for _once_ , Alex had allowed himself to believe that maybe the ghosts he fought wouldn’t be so bad if he had people who he cared about and who cared about him by his side.

Now he realized that maybe nobody had ever really cared. Nobody had ever really wanted him there. Maybe he never really deserved it. What could he cry about then? What right did he have? Who would he scream at? What would be the point?

Alex sighed, feeling very heavy on his feet. “Please leave.”

“You know I won’t,” she said, though Alex knew better. He could see her resolve weakening, and he found himself hoping for it. He just wanted her to go away. He wanted everyone to go away.

Alex closed his eyes a moment, regaining strength before he forced himself back up the ladder, trying not to visibly wince. He returned to his books, ignoring Maria’s presence altogether, even as she shifted on her feet, as if waiting for him to speak.

“You can hate me all you want,” she eventually said. “I’m not leaving.”

“I don’t hate you, Maria,” he said simply. “I can’t hate a lie.”

She frowned, her eyes darkening. “Alex, what does that mean?”

Alex exhaled a deep breath, resting against the ladder for a moment before going back to work. “I tried to convince myself that I was to you what you and Liz are to each other. Tried to pretend I actually had a family.”

_They’re my family, Alex!_ Michael’s voice rang in his ears, and his fingers stilled on his books for the briefest second.

_Alright, maybe! But you are mine!”_

He closed his eyes, his jaw clenched, then he swallowed and said, “At least now I know the truth.” He sniffed. “And that’s fine. I’m better off on my own anyway.”

“ _Alex_ —”

“Maria, leave,” he cut her off, and though his voice was quiet, it turned Maria completely silent. But Alex wouldn’t face her. “I’m never going to forgive you. _Never_. So just leave.”

There was a long moment of silence before Alex heard a sniffle, then the sound of heels walking out of the room, out the open door. He finished putting the last book in place, and leaned against the ladder, too tired to move down just yet.


	34. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isobel, Liz, Michael, and Alex movie night.

“This isn’t vinegar, it’s sour cream,” Isobel protested, thrusting the bag of chips at Liz who looked like she was using every bit of her willpower to keep from strangling the blonde.

If Alex wasn’t so comfortable with his head on Michael’s lap, the cowboy’s fingers raking through his hair, he might’ve been more wary about that. As it was, Max had asked Liz and Isobel to spend some time together, hoping that it would help them bond and maybe not want to jump at each other’s throats every time they saw each other. Liz wouldn’t do it without Alex, and Isobel wouldn’t show up without Michael, which worked fine for Alex and Michael as neither of them would’ve been willing to endure tonight without each other.

“I just grabbed a bunch of random flavors,” Liz said, her voice calm, but her nails dug into the bag as she handed it to Alex behind her. “I didn’t really pay a lot of attention.”

“God, you work in a _lab_ ,” Isobel muttered. “Really comforting to know detail’s not your thing.”

Michael snickered, and Alex saw Liz’s jaw clench. Alex tapped his arm, silently telling him to stop encouraging this. Liz and Isobel wanted to sit on the floor, probably because sitting on the couch meant being forced to share the same space.

Alex still remembered Max’s face when he and Liz had shown up at his place to get Isobel (Liz, after all, didn’t have the directions to Alex’s cabin), and instead of entrusting Michael with the request, the sheriff had pulled Alex aside, and quietly asked him to make sure they talk. Even though Liz and her sister both knew that Isobel wasn’t the one that had killed Rosa, and even with Rosa back now, the tension between Ortecho and Isobel was strained. And if Rosa had a problem with someone, it meant Liz had a problem with someone. Max, Alex suspected, knew that he wasn’t asking for any simple favor, but his eyes had been so full of trust, as if he knew that if anyone could do this, it would be Alex. Alex didn’t know why Max believed it so blindly, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

Maybe it was to soothe her, maybe it was to make her laugh, but Alex reached over and rubbed Isobel’s shoulder. Something in her seemed to ease and she leaned back against the couch, her eyes on the TV as Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams continued to have a heavy breakup. There was a time when any breakup reminded Alex of his own. Now, as he felt Michael’s warmth beneath him, protecting him, all he could do was hope that he didn’t fall asleep too soon.

“We calling this a night or what?” Michael suddenly said into the silence, and Alex understood why Max hadn’t pulled his brother aside instead of _him_.

“The movie hasn’t even started, Michael,” Isobel said.

“What do you mean? They broke up, look, they’re breaking up, we’re done.”

“No, they still—” Alex tried not to laugh, “the real plot starts years later, when they’re both adults.”

“Yeah, see, they’re fast-forwarding,” Liz said.

After a moment, Michael spoke up again. “Anybody die in this?”

“Oh my – _Michael_ , shut up and watch the movie, or I’ll put you in a coma until it’s over.”

“No,” Alex said tiredly, turning his face into Michael’s lap. “I need him.”

“No, hey, don’t fall asleep,” Liz turned from where she sat and nudged Alex’s arm once she noticed his eyes had closed.

“M’not,” he mumbled, sighing against Michael’s jeans.

“You really need him to babysit you guys?” Alex heard Michael say, his hands tightening around the airman almost protectively, and Alex was far too comfortable as he felt himself nearly drifting to dreamland to bother protesting. “He didn’t get any sleep last night.”

“Why not?” Liz’s concerned voice sounded at the same time that Alex felt a nudge on his shoulder and Isobel said, “Too bad, I need him awake!”

“If you need him so much, then why’d you ask _me_ to come?”

“Alex would never have agreed to do this if you didn’t.”

“ _Wow_ , some sister!”

“You know I love you, but I need a level head who’ll actually give a crap, and that’s _Alex_.”

“Let the guy sleep!”

“You think I don’t know what you have in mind after we leave?” Isobel retorted. “It sure as hell isn’t sleep!”

Alex groaned and moved to sit up. He sighed as his back hit the couch. He wanted nothing more than to curl up against Michael and go back to sleep – and by the way Michael was tugging on his arm to bring him back down, he knew his boyfriend wanted the same thing – but if he leaned against him again, he was sure to drift off. And he had to stay awake.

“I’m up,” he said, rubbing his face. “I’m awake.”

Liz pursed her lips, doubt filling her expression. “It’s okay, Alex, you can go back to sleep.”

“I don’t think I want to, to be honest,” he said. “I shudder to think what you guys would do to my home if I wasn’t watching.”

Liz smiled, grateful and relieved, Isobel seemed more relieved than anything else, and as she turned back to the TV, she reached out to take Alex’s hand.

“Great,” Michael muttered so that only Alex could hear, “everybody’s in love with you. Any chance _I’ll_ get you at all tonight?”

“You don’t think this is a little more important?” Alex whispered back.

“We’re on a couch, and you’re still in your clothes – to be honest, I’m thinking of very little else.”

Alex laughed quietly, covering his eyes, trying to will away the burn in his cheeks. “They’re our friends, they need our help.”

“Serves me right,” Michael said with a sigh as he leaned back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling, “for being with someone who actually _cares_.”

Alex lightly slapped his arm. “You’d do anything for Isobel.”

Michael rolled his eyes, but Alex couldn’t miss the way his eyes fell on his sister, the corner of his lips quirking upward.

Liz groaned. “I hate this part.”

“What?” Alex frowned, feeling almost offended as Ryan Gosling’s character spotted Rachel’s out the bus. “What’re you talking about?”

“Oh, come on!” Liz said. “He sees her just walking down the street? Doesn’t think of – look at this – doesn’t think of going in or calling out to her or anything. Just stands there and waits for her to kiss some other guy!”

“He was trying to recognize her first,” Isobel defended. “He wasn’t sure it was her.”

“All but jumps out of a bus and risks getting hit by a car for someone that _might_ be Allie?”

“You’re dating my brother!” Isobel exclaimed. “You’re in a loving relationship, how are you so bad at romance?”

“It doesn’t make sense!”

“Oh, _logic_ ,” she rolled her eyes. “That’s sexy.”

Liz glared, then, “Is this about the chips?”

“What is it with you and the chips?” Isobel said, annoyed. “Would you let that go already?”

“ _Me_?”

“Okay, that’s—” Alex stood, nudging Liz up with him. “Come help me get some more water bottles.”

Liz, fuming, stood and let Alex guide her into the kitchen. As soon as the door closed behind them, she turned to him. “Alex, she’s making me—”

“It’s okay,” Alex held his hands up, trying to calm her down. “It’ll be okay.”

“I just – she can’t—” Liz screamed through grit teeth, her face hidden behind her hands. Eventually, she sighed. Her arms fell limp to her side, her eyes staring off into space as she softly said, “I’m going to kill her.”

“You’re not going to kill her.”

“I’m going to jail for it, they’ll fire me from the lab.”

“You’re not getting fired, would you just…” he seated her next to the counter. “There. Feel better?”

She raked her hands through her hair, pulling it back from her face. “I don’t get it. I know why _I’m_ uncomfortable around her, but she.... She’s so nice to you, and I’ve known her longer. She’s making this so much more difficult. Why?”

Alex regarded his friend thoughtfully a moment, then he smiled softly, took the stool across from her, and said, “Because I don’t say things like, _I know why I’m uncomfortable around her_.”

Liz looked stricken, her expression turned to immense guilt. “Alex, I… I can’t help it.”

He nodded. “I know. And I think she can tell, and it just reminds her of everything Noah did to her, you know? Everything he let her believe.”

She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, “This is too hard.”

Alex tilted his head at her. “Since when has that ever stopped you?”

Liz blinked, and huffed a chuckle. She opened her mouth to say something when—

“Are you waiting for the ice to melt?” Isobel yelled, and the kitchen door suddenly opened on its own.

Alex raised a brow and looked over to find Michael watching him from the living room, gesturing at him to come back already. He smiled.

“You coming?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Great, barbecue flavor,” they heard Isobel say from inside. “So no attention to detail at all then.”

Liz closed her eyes, muttering darkly in Spanish as she walked out past Alex who was trying his very best not to laugh.


	35. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex cook together.

“I don’t think we’re doing this right,” Michael said, pulling back from the pot immediately as the heat of the cheese burned his cheeks.

“We’re doing it right,” Alex said, chopping shrimp behind him. “It says we have to simmer under the sauce and let it thicken before we add the noodles.”

Michael sighed, one hand on the counter beside Alex, the other on his hip. “I have, like, ten inappropriate jokes in my head, should I make one?”

“You can,” Alex said, smiling, before he reached over and kissed Michael’s cheek, sending a current of electricity throughout his entire body. “But I won’t be listening.”

“Wasted humor,” Michael said, unable to help but mirror his boyfriend’s smile as he leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed. “You know, we could’ve just ordered Alfredo and been done with this hours ago.”

“You can’t keep eating takeout, Guerin, it’s not good for you.”

“I’ve been doing it my entire life, I’m okay with it.”

“I don’t want you to be okay with it,” Alex said simply, finishing up and drying his hands with a paper towel. “And you don’t have to be. You have me now.”

Michael tried not to think of the flutter in his chest as Alex so casually said that, as if it was obvious that Alex would be there to take care of him, that Michael was his now and that he protected what was his. Instead, he just moved close enough until his chest was against Alex’s elbow.

“Now I have twenty jokes.”

“Get away from me,” Alex laughed, lightly shoving him back, and Michael moved, biting his lower lip as he tried to keep his smile from widening. There was a time when everything he said had only made Alex cry. But there was no use thinking about that now because they were finally in a place when Michael’s words could only bring a smile to Alex’s beautiful face, and Michael wanted to treasure each one.

“Is it because I’m growing a gut?” he asked, tilting his head. “You like me better with abs?”

Alex gathered the shrimp in his hands, and moved them over to the pot, tossing them in and stirring the sauce slightly. He scoffed as he turned back, wiping his hands off, and leaned down to Michael’s stomach.

He lifted the shirt slightly to kiss the hairy skin there, and patted it back down. “I love your gut. Makes you hotter somehow. It doesn’t make sense, but it does.” He stood, tilting his head. “You know?”

Michael’s eyes fell to Alex’s lips and he licked his own. “Sorry, you kissed me and everything just kinda went blurry.”

Michael leaned in, his lips inches away from Alex’s before Alex pulled back, laughing. “We can’t leave the dish alone.”

“I’ll eat something else,” Michael said immediately, his hands coming up to Alex’s waist.

“One of us has to be the adult here,” Alex put a hand on his chest, turning to the pot.

“Does it always have to be you?”

“Good question,” Alex said, though he smiled, amused.

“We haven’t had sex in, like, fifteen hours.”

“You _counted_?”

“I’m having serious withdrawal, Alex!”

“Shush, and give me the noodles.”

Michael exhaled loudly as he took the colander full of noodles and handed it to Alex, watching as the airman emptied them into the pot and stirred. Michael’s eyes quickly rose from the pot to Alex’s face, watching as his brows slightly furrowed in concentration. His smile widened.

There was nothing but the sound of the fire as it heated their meal, the leaves of the trees ruffling outside in the wind, the birds chirping as they gathered around the cabin – and Michael felt at peace. He struggled to remember a time around Alex that he’d felt anything else. The thought made him step closer to the airman, though Alex hardly seemed to notice as he turned off the fire and stirred the contents a few more times. Michael was glad for it. He wouldn’t have wanted to disrupt what they had right now, and even though every fiber in his body yearned to touch Alex, to feel his soft skin, his warm breath against Michael’s ear, his lips, there was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to watch the airman.

“I love you,” he said before he could stop himself, but he found himself unable to regret a thing.

Alex looked up, a brow raised, and he smiled softly. “I love you, too.”

Michael hummed happily as he came behind Alex, wrapping his arms around his waist and hooking his chin over his shoulder. “What do you love most about me?”

Alex chuckled, setting the wooden spoon down, placing one hand over Michael’s on his stomach. “Let me think about that.”

“You need to think about it?”

“Would it make you feel better if I just said, _your ass_?”

Michael laughed, and kissed Alex’s shoulder. “Yes, absolutely.”

Alex turned in his hold, wrapping his arms around Michael’s shoulders. “Let me think about that.”

“Private, you—” but whatever Michael was about to say was cut off by Alex’s lips on this. Michael melted quickly into the kiss, holding Alex tightly against him, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Before things could escalate, Alex pulled back, his finger on Michael’s lips as Michael tried to follow him.

“You know what’d be really hot right now?” Alex said as he brought his finger down Michael’s chin, down his neck, to his hairy chest.

“What?” Michael breathed, and Alex leaned in close enough that Michael felt his breath fan against his lips.

“If you set the table.”

And with that, Alex turned around, pulled two plates out of the cabinet, and placed them in Michael’s hands, looking like he was about to laugh.

Michael stared at them a moment, his lips pressed together, then, “Are you playing hard to get with me, Private?”

Alex bit his lower lip, amused, before he pecked Michael’s lips. “No dinner, no dessert.”

And by the way the airman was watching him, his eyes raking Michael’s body hungrily, Michael knew what kind of _dessert_ he had had in mind. He used his telekinesis to levitate the plates and forks onto the living room table before he pulled Alex’s body to his again.

“How long have you been waiting to make _that_ joke?”

Alex’s smile widened and he held Michael’s face, his hands warm on his skin, and Michael was suddenly grateful for the heat. “Annoyed I said it before you could?”

“Like hell,” he breathed before he pulled Alex in, attacking his lips with his, swallowing the airman’s laughs.


	36. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My take on how Alex enlisted.

Alex opened his eyes slowly as the sound of a lock and key echoed throughout the entire bunker. His lids felt heavy, his body weighed down, yet he curled in deeper on himself against the cold metal wall as the door opened and light poured in, making him wince and look away. He heard footsteps slowly approaching him, and he shut his eyes tight. Then a hand touched his shoulder. It was cold and stiff, but Alex knew it wasn’t his father’s.

He looked up with a gasp, his brother Flint towering above him with a hand over his mouth, as if signaling at him to stay quiet.

Alex gripped his brother’s wrist, but nodded. His fingers were tight on his brother’s skin, but Flint seemed to hardly notice as he stood, nudging Alex up with him. Alex got to his feet, swayed, and nearly fell again before he had Flint’s arm around his waist, keeping him steady.

“Come on, Alex, he’ll get mad if he sees you like this,” Flint said, releasing Alex once he knew he could stand on his own.

Alex put a hand against the wall and said nothing. He let Flint lead him out of the bunker, fully aware of what his father would do to him if he saw him leave first. Flint kept walking until they reached a door at the far right end of the house, and Alex stopped just as Flint’s hand touched the doorknob.

Flint noticed. “Stop it,” he said in a hushed tone. “You know what’ll happen if you don’t see him.”

“Let’s just leave, Flint,” Alex pleaded. “Just – take me to Maria, or Jim Valenti.”

“ _Alex_ —”

“I can’t drive, I just need you to take me,” he said, gripping his brother’s arm with both hands now. He hated it, having to ask Flint or anyone for help. He hated to sound so afraid, but after what his father had done to Michael…

“Please,” he begged. “He’ll just lock me up again, you _know_ he will. _Please_ , Flint!”

But Flint only looked away, seemingly conflicted about something. Alex narrowed his eyes. He knew that look on his brother’s face. “You know something, don’t you?” When Flint didn’t respond, Alex tightened his grip on him. “What’s he planning, Flint, what’s he going to do?”

Flint clenched his jaw, yanking his arm away. “Why couldn’t you just stay away from that guy? None of this would’ve happened if you had.”

“Flint,” Alex said, and before he could get another word out, Flint opened the door to reveal a large office. The floor was carpeted in brown, the walls were covered with framed photos of Jesse’s military friends, of Alex’s brothers, of their medals and certificates. There was not a single space of wall left for Alex. Alex doubted there would ever be.

His father was sitting behind a desk, working on some papers, and in two armchairs sat Alex’s two older brothers, Jack and Holden. Holden looked up at him when he walked in, Jack didn’t bother. Alex caught Holden’s eyes before his brother looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. _They all know something._

Despite himself, Alex felt the dread that had been building in his chest since the door to the bunker opened rise. He tightened his hands into fists at his side.

“Have you had any water today?” His father asked, not looking up from his papers. Alex’s eyes went to the clock hung on the wall behind his father and saw that it was four in the afternoon.

Alex merely shook his head, and his father placed his water bottle in front of him. “Drink before you get dehydrated,” he said in a scolding tone.

Alex stared at the bottle, willing away the protest that if Alex died of dehydration, it would be because his father had scarcely given him any food or drink since he’d locked him up.

“Where’s Michael,” he asked, and he could feel his brothers’ gazes burning holes into his head. “What’d you do to him?”

Jesse’s pen stilled on his paper, and instead of answering, he took out what looked like a form from a file beside him, and placed it in front of Alex next to the water.

Alex frowned. “What’s this?”

“Military enlistment form,” Jesse said simply as if he was talking about the weather.

Alex’s dread built up. “Okay?”

Jesse sighed, setting his pen down and looking up at Alex with that detached expression he always wore. Alex scoffed, though he felt more panic than humor.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Alex,” Holden said, his eyes avoiding his brother’s. “You know he’s not.”

“I’m not signing that.”

“I’m not giving you the choice,” Jesse said.

“It’s not up to you,” Alex said through grit teeth. “I’m not signing.”

Jesse stared, and Alex saw his jaw clench. “Okay, Alex.” He stood. “Listen to me very closely. There is _no where_ you can go that I won’t find you. As you’re still seventeen, you are still a minor.”

“My birthday’s in a few months,” Alex tried, though his voice trembled even to his own ears. He wouldn’t sign that form, _he wouldn’t_. “I’ll be eighteen, and then—”

“And then what?” Jesse cut him off. “Where will you go? You think that _boy_ will help you?”

“Michael,” Alex breathed. “What’d you do to him—”

“What’ll you do? Live out of his truck?”

“How do you—”

“ _No one_ cares about you, Alex, not like I do,” he said. “No one will be able to protect you like I do.”

“Protect me, protect me,” Alex muttered, and slammed his hand on the desk.

Jack stood. “ _Alex_ —”

“You keep saying that – since mom left, since you found out I was gay, since you _threatened_ Jim Valenti to stay away from me – you always say that, dad, what does it mean? Protect me from who?”

His dad said nothing, and maybe it was because Alex had eaten so little lately, maybe it was the exhaustion of moving after weeks of being locked in the bunker, maybe it was the sudden light after so much darkness irritating his eyes, but Alex couldn’t take it.

He huffed a humorless chuckle, his head ducked. He muttered, “You’re psychotic.” He looked up to see his father staring back at him, his expression unchanged. “You’d rather I die in war than be with a guy.”

Jesse stared at his son a moment, then crossed his arms behind his back as if he was talking to one of his soldiers. “You’re a failure, Alex. You always have been. By the time they were your age, your brothers were lining up to enlist, but not you. Never you.”

“Because I know better.”

“You know _nothing_.” He narrowed his eyes, considering Alex, then said, “How many battles do you have to lose before you decide to stand up and win? You could be so much more.”

Alex said nothing for a moment, shaking his head. Then, “You’re never going to change. You hate me for what I am, and you’ll see me blown in a desert somewhere for it before you see me refuse the family legacy.”

“That legacy is an honor.”

“It’s a curse. It glorifies bloodshed and condemns anyone who’s different. But really, dad? You’d even condemn me? Aren’t you tired of being the bad guy yet?”

“Alex,” one of his brothers tried, but Alex couldn’t bother to know who. “Alex, maybe you should—”

“I’m your son,” Alex said, his voice barely over a whisper. “How could you be so evil?”

“You’re smart, Alex,” he said. “Much smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

Alex looked to the ceiling, exasperated. “Oh my—”

“You have the ability to thrive, just as your brothers have. You’ve known I wanted you to enlist after high school—”

“ _Please_ , dad, who do you think you’re talking to? I know you! I know what you think of me, and I know you sure as hell don’t think I’m good enough for the Air Force.” He turned to his brothers, his eyes burning. “Damn it, would one of you _say_ something?!”

None of them did. They never did.

His fists shook, his nails digging into his palms. It stung, but it kept Alex from crying in front of them. He would’ve rather died.

“Enlistment periods have ended,” Jesse said casually as if Alex had said nothing. “But as master sergeant, I can make an exception. We return to base tomorrow, and I expect you to be ready by then, your name on the dotted line.” He slid the form closer to Alex and sat back in his chair, his arms crossed, expectant.

Alex’s eye twitched, and he smirked humorlessly. When he spoke next, his voice was raspier and quiet, but it echoed throughout the entire room. “I won’t be you.” He stepped closer, his smirk falling. “I will _not_ be you.”

And before he could hear any of their responses, he turned and left. He forced his steps slow, knowing that any one of his brothers could try coming after him, talking him into coming back, into hearing their father out. But Alex wouldn’t. He _wouldn’t_.

When the front door closed behind him, he ran.

*

Michael grunted as he parked his truck behind the Wild Pony. He didn’t know where else he could go that he wouldn’t be kicked off the premise, and Maria had always let him do whatever he wanted. He clenched his jaw as the engine finally turned off, and reached into the large pile of acetone bottles in the passenger seat, chugging it down in seconds.

But no matter what, it never stopped. The veins in his hand still throbbed, his fingers still twitched and spasmed, and after that Ortecho and the rest of them and the memory of that damn cave and that damn car, the heavy weight in his chest pulled him down with every step.

He stepped out of his truck, leaning against it. After the news they’d received a few weeks ago, Michael doubted Maria or her mother would be in any mood to humor him with a drink, and after Liz had left and Max…

Michael shook the thoughts of his brother out of his head. He still had Isobel, but he couldn’t go talk to her, not now. He took a deep breath of the cold air, trying to get the picture of Rosa and the others out of his mind, but he couldn’t. He could still see their horrified expressions, their cold, lifeless faces, the look in his sister’s eyes as Rosa’s body fell from her arms, as she looked to Michael with a numb, empty expression and told him that Rosa couldn’t be trusted.

Michael inhaled sharply, finishing his bottle of acetone before he tossed it aside, his eyes shut tight. _I can beat this_ , he thought, though it was overrun with images of Rosa, of Isobel, of Max’s tears.

“Gu-Guerin?”

Michael opened his eyes with a gasp, and saw Alex Manes standing there. Alex, who he hadn’t seen in weeks; Alex, who hadn’t returned any of his calls; Alex, whose older brothers had all but kicked Michael off the property when he’d shown up, demanding to see Alex and know he was okay. _His_ Alex. And suddenly, every picture of death, and guilt, and misery was gone. It was just them.

“Alex,” he breathed before he shot forward. Alex broke into a cry, and ran into Michael’s arms, Michael unable to help but lift him slightly as he wrapped his arms tightly around him. “Alex, Alex,” he panted into the crook of Alex’s neck, one hand on his back, the other in his hair.

“Guerin,” Alex cried, and Michael pulled back to see his cheeks streaked with tears, his eyes filled with fear, his hands shaking on Michael’s arms. The moonlight shined on his face, and Michael could now see he had dark circles under his eyes, bruises on his forehead and cheek, his lip was cut, and his nails were covered in dry blood as if he’d been scratching at walls for weeks. Michael hadn’t seen him in _weeks_. What had Jesse done to him?

“Alex, what—”

“It’s my dad,” Alex stammered. Michael had never seen him so scared. “Guerin, he got—he got a—he’s making me—he told me to—I don’t want to do it, Guerin, I can’t—”

“What, Alex, slow down,” he held Alex’s face in his hands. “Slow down, hey, look at me, I can’t understand what you’re saying. _What happened?_ Where have you been all this time?”

Alex looked like he was trying to control his breathing, his fists tightening in Michael’s jacket. “I… I…” he tried, then he stopped, his frown deepening as he looked down at Michael’s hand. It was bandaged, the white stained with red from blood that had leaked through.

Alex gasped, stepping back. “Your – your hand.” His eyes filled with tears, his voice cracked. “Your hand, Guerin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

“No, hey, don’t,” Michael pulled him in. “Don’t. This wasn’t your fault, _Alex_ , it wasn’t…”

But Alex was shaking his head, as if he couldn’t hear Michael. He wiped his face, his hands shaking. “The hospital, let’s go to the—”

“I already did,” Michael lied, moving his hand so that it was hidden from Alex’s view, his other hand on Alex’s cheek. He missed him so much, he couldn’t believe he was standing here in front of him now. “They did what they could, they healed it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You’re lying,” Alex cried, and Michael’s heart ached. With anyone else, he may have been annoyed at the insistence, angry at Alex for not believing him, but all he felt was warmth and gratitude. Now, after everyone had left him, Alex was still here. Michael briefly wondered when he would disappear, too, but pushed the thought away, hard and fast, vowing that he would do whatever it took to keep Alex with him. He could lose everyone else, but not Alex.

“Alex, look at me,” he said, his voice calm as he pulled Alex to his chest, his hands tight on Alex’s waist. “I’m fine. I’m okay. I don’t regret being in that toolshed, do you?”

Alex said nothing, and Michael felt panic rise in his chest. He still remembered the feel of Alex’s soft skin, his breathy moans against Michael’s ears, the smile when Michael couldn’t help but savagely attack his lips with his own. He was hanging onto that. Would Alex really let go?

Alex swallowed. “Let’s go to Mimi,” he said. “She’ll know what to do. She has herbs and stuff that heal better than anything from a doctor.”

Michael thought of Mimi, Maria’s mother – thought of Maria, the last time he’d seen her, the way she’d cried.

“Alex, we can’t go bother them now.”

“Don’t worry, they’ll help!”

“They’re still crying, we can’t…” Michael trailed off, hoping he wouldn’t have to mention Rosa’s name, hoping Alex would stop insisting, but his brows only furrowed.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, bringing a hand up to wipe his face dry. “Why are they crying?”

Michael stilled. “That’s not funny, Alex.”

“What’s not funny?” Alex stepped closer, and Michael felt that panic rise to his throat. _Oh no_ , he thought. Could Alex not know? Where _had_ he been these last few weeks?

“You never heard,” he muttered.

Alex looked frustrated now. “Never heard _what_? What happened?”

Michael swallowed. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to be the one to say it, but… if he didn’t tell Alex, someone else would. And he didn’t think Alex could survive it if someone else said it.

“Liz Ortecho’s sister died a few weeks ago.”

Alex blinked, as if he didn’t hear him right. He stumbled back, and Michael caught him.

“Rosa?” he muttered, his voice barely over a whisper, his eyes staring through Michael. Michael nodded. “How?”

Michael clenched his jaw. “Car crash,” he said, the lie burning his tongue like poison. How had he found someone who was impossible to lie to? “Drunk driving. She killed two other girls with her.”

Alex’s lower lip quivered. He shook his head, his hands painfully tight on Michael’s shoulders. “R-Rosa… no, she… Rosa, are you sure?”

Michael’s eyes burned, but he only nodded once stiffly. Maria and Liz, he could’ve handled. Isobel and Max, he could’ve handled. But this, seeing Alex like this… it was too much.

“Alex,” he said, his voice cracking despite himself. “Let’s just – let’s get in the truck, okay? Let’s go for a drive, come on. Alex, please, get in the truck.”

But Alex was pulling away from him, his gaze ahead and unfocused, hands covering his ears as if it would block the world out, his eyes brimmed with tears. _I did that_ , Michael thought. _I’m killing him_. “Alex,” he tried again, pulling on Alex’s arms. No matter how much Alex struggled, Michael couldn’t let him go. He needed him to breathe, to stay floating above the water.

“Alex, _please_ ,” he begged. “Please, just come on. Let’s go somewhere, anywhere you want.”

“And Liz?”

“Alex—”

“ _And Liz_?”

Michael shook his head, the words struggling to make their way past his lips. “She left town the day after.”

Alex exhaled shakily, his stand weakening. Michael caught him, holding on tight enough to leave bruises. Alex held him back, though Michael couldn’t feel Alex’s breath against his chest. Was he trying to suffocate? To end this?

“Alex,” he breathed into his hair. “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

But Alex said nothing, he only held on tighter to Michael. They stayed like that for a long time before Michael got Alex into his car, and drove off.

Michael didn’t know where he was going, but it was just him and Alex on the open road, the moonlight shining through, painting Alex in silver, and he couldn’t help but reach over and take Alex’s hand. Michael interlaced their fingers, drawing strength from him. Alex had looked completely numb since they’d left the Wild Pony, having not said a single word or shed another tear, and had his fingers not squeezed Michael’s back, Michael might’ve thought he’d gone completely devoid of any emotion. Somehow, the thought scared him just as much as losing Max or Isobel. How had this man come to mean so much to him?

“Are you hungry?” Michael asked after what felt like half an hour of driving. “We can stop somewhere.”

Alex said nothing for a long moment, then he said, his voice so quiet that Michael had nearly missed it, “Everything’s broken.”

Michael watched the road. “So we fix it.”

“How?”

And Michael thought of Isobel’s wide, scared eyes, of Max’s misery and silent please, begging him not to take on a burden he knew Michael couldn’t. And somehow, Michael had lost them both. Something had changed, had shattered beyond repair, and Michael had lost them.

“No more losing,” he said, his hand tightening in Alex’s.

A pause, then Michael felt Alex’s fingers hold his back just as tightly. “No more losing,” Alex agreed, and Michael glanced at him. He was staring straight ahead, at something Michael couldn’t see, but he no longer looked numb. His brows were furrowed slightly as if in thought, his chin lifted slightly in determination, and Michael realized with no peace in his chest that Alex had never looked like that.

He lifted Alex’s hand to his mouth and kissed it, keeping Alex’s fingers against his lips as he glanced at him for his reaction. Alex looked over to him, not smiling, but both afraid and determined at the same time, and Michael wondered, not for the first time, where Alex had been these past few weeks, and what had happened to him. _Maybe_ , Michael thought, _I wasn’t the only one that shattered._

*

Alex had asked Michael to drop him off in front of his house, keeping a distance so that his dad didn’t see them from the window and pull a gun or something, and despite Michael’s many protests, Alex promised him he would be alright.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Michael asked, taking Alex’s sleeve to keep him from leaving.

Alex could only lean forward, taking Michael’s lips in his and kissing him until they were both breathless. Until the press of their lips hurt.

“I’m coming tomorrow, Alex,” Alex heard after he closed the car door, making his way up the front steps of his house. “I’ll see you then! Alex, did you hear me? First thing tomorrow!” Michael said, though Alex thought it sounded more like a scared promise. _I’m coming tomorrow, you’ll definitely be here, won’t you?_

Alex clenched his jaw, his eyes shutting tight as he reached the front door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him.

“I love you, Michael,” he whispered, his fists against the door. “I’m sorry.”

Alex opened his eyes. He had to focus from now on. He took a deep breath and made his way down the hall, past his brothers’ rooms, his own room, the kitchen, and the living room.

“Alex,” Flint suddenly appeared as Alex neared his father’s office, grabbing Alex’s arm as he spoke in hushed whispers. “Where have you been? It’s past midnight!”

“Did you know?” Alex asked. He wasn’t going to bother with staying quiet. His brother looked confused, and Alex resisted the desire to scream. “About Rosa,” he continued, deadly calm. “ _Did you know_?”

Flint at least had the decency to look taken back, and Alex found himself so unsurprised that his eyes didn’t even burn. There would be no more tears. He snatched his arm from his brother’s grasp.

He stepped into his father’s office, Jesse still at his table, working on some forms, the enlistment form still at the opposing end, facing Alex, just as it had been several hours ago.

Without a word, Alex marched over, took a pen from his father’s desk, and signed the form. It was only when he set his pen down did his father look up. His eyes went from the paper to Alex’s face, and Alex took a deep breath. He wasn’t afraid, he realized. His heart was thrashing, and he would’ve rather not thought about everything that was to come, how his life would change. But he wasn’t afraid. Not now. He had a feeling that fear would return, but not in this minute.

“I’ll join the Air Force,” Alex said, and his father watched him. “I’ll train, I’ll fight, I’ll use every cell I have to be the best there is. And then,” he leaned in, his voice darkening, “I’ll burn you to the ground.”

His father stopped working and leaned back, regarding Alex thoughtfully. “So that’s your endgame. Destroying me.”

Alex stood straight and turned. “Destroying you wouldn’t hurt you. No,” he said, and just as he reached the door, he stopped, “I want you to feel what I felt.” He looked over his shoulder at his father who, for the first time, seemed to see him. _Good_ , Alex thought. He wanted him to pay attention now. “I want to destroy the thing that you love, and I want to make you watch.”

*

_Hey, Alex,_

_I don’t really know how I’m supposed to start this. Not really a letters kinda guy._

_I got a job, a mechanic. Sanders owns the place, he’s letting me fix up this old airstream. Says I can have it if I can get the air-conditioning to work. I won’t be living in my car anymore._

_Max is sheriff now. Keeps arresting me anyway. It isn’t as fun as you’d think to have a brother in law enforcement. He keeps enforcing it on me. Did you laugh? Did I just make you laugh? I can’t see you, so you’re gonna have to tell me._

_You remember that guitar you gave me? I still have it. I don’t have a lot of time to play it anymore, but you gave it to me, and it was out of tune, too, so I fixed it. You’re welcome._

_Would you actually get any of these if I sent them now? I don’t even know. No one will tell me anything. None of them know why I want to know, and I don’t want to tell them. I keep thinking that if I keep it a secret, you’ll come back. I’d probably be the last to know, and that would kill me, but you’d be back, so I could take it._

_I miss you, Alex. I miss your smell, and your taste, and the way you feel. I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s driving me crazy. I still think about that morning I showed up at your house. I saw you in that uniform, getting into the car with your brothers and your dad. When you drove off, I chased after you. I called you, and begged you to come back. Did you know that? Did you even hear me?_

_Come back already, Private. I love you—_

Michael crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the bonfire, taking the beer bottle beside his chair and chugging half of it down. He watched as the paper lit up in flames and turned to ash. Another message burned away. He settled in his seat, hoping to forget he’d ever written it, what the words in it meant, what he had been about to say – what he was always about to say – but he found himself unable to look away from the paper. Someday he would send one of these letters. Though he knew that was a lie.


	37. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max needs Alex to help save Michael from hurting himself.

“I have to see him,” Max said before he even came to a stop in front of Alex’s room. Liz and Isobel stood. Liz looked conflicted, Isobel looked pained.

“He’s asleep,” Liz said.

“Then I have to wake him up,” Max tried to pass Liz, but she grabbed his arm.

“ _Max_ —”

“Michael’s losing control,” Max defended, his other hand covering Liz’s. “He _needs_ Alex.”

“Michael’s done enough,” Liz said, the edge in her voice evident. Max so rarely saw her angry at one of her friends. “It’s time he learned to survive without Alex.”

Max clenched his jaw. “Liz, he thinks Alex is dead. He’s losing his mind.”

“If he thinks Alex is dead, it’s because he almost killed him!”

“He didn’t mean to, Alex knows that!”

“Whether he meant to or not doesn’t matter!” Liz snapped, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “What matters is that he almost did!”

It was times like this that Max was reminded of how close Liz and Alex were. He remembered back in high school when they were inseparable. When Liz had left town, it was as if Alex had lost any reason to stay and left for the military. Arturo smiled at Alex like he was his son, and Alex protected him like he was an uncle. Liz and Alex were family, just like Max and Michael were. But this was different because Liz didn’t understand Alex the way Michael did. Liz didn’t need Alex the way Michael did.

“If it were me,” Max said, and Liz fell silent. “Wouldn’t you at least want to know? Wouldn’t you want to save me?”

Liz said nothing for a moment, then her hand slid down Max’s arm. Finally, she said, her voice quiet, “What if Alex can’t save him? What if this time, Michael really does—”

“He still has to know,” Isobel said, her eyes going to Alex’s hospital door, obviously troubled.

“You don’t think he’d hurt him again?” Liz turned to her, her eyes daring. “Because he’s done it before.”

Isobel sighed. “He still has to know.” At Liz’s look, she said, “Michael’s my brother. Max is right, he needs Alex.”

“What about what _Alex_ needs?” Liz protested, and Max hated that he had to do it, he really did, but he was running out of time. He slid past Liz to Alex’s door, and turned the knob.

“No, Max—” Liz tried, but her voice was drowned out as Max stepped into the room and found Alex’s bed empty.

“He’s gone,” Isobel breathed, and Max, realizing where he might have gone, turned and left. Nobody followed, all of them attempting to find Alex, to call the doctor, a nurse – anyone who could tell them where their friend was. But Max knew better.

He knew enough about Alex through his brother that he knew when the airman didn’t want to be found. Max hurried down the halls as he thought of what Michael had told him once about the airman.

“If he doesn’t want to be found,” Michael had said, his voice miserable after weeks of Alex’s disappearance. “He won’t be.”

But Alex was injured. Even with his skills, he had to know he wouldn’t make it far. And Max was right. He ran outside the hospital to where his car was parked, and found Alex barely shrugging on his jacket, attempting to make his way to the street.

“Alex!” Max called and grabbed his arm, pulling him off the road as he stumbled close to an oncoming car. “Stop!”

Alex panted against Max’s chest, his fists on the man’s arms, pushing him back. When he realized who had stopped him, he shook his head. “I have to go, Max.”

“Alex—”

“He thinks I’m dead, he _needs_ me!”

“Alex, stop,” Max gripped his arms, holding the airman tightly until he wasn’t fighting him. “You want to help my brother?”

“He’s my soulmate,” Alex defended. “I’m his. He needs me, Max.”

Max resisted the urge to cry in relief. He took Alex’s face in his hands, kissed his forehead, and said, “I’ll drive you.”

“Max,” Alex breathed. “Thank you.”

“Come on,” he helped Alex into the passenger seat in his car, and as Liz and Isobel came running out of the hospital, Max took off, taking an injured and exhausted-looking Alex to the airstream.

One perk of being a sheriff was that driving as wildly as possible wasn’t going to get him arrested. He kept an arm out as they went, protecting Alex.

“You sure you can handle this, Alex?” he asked, hoping he already knew what the answer would be.

“I have to,” was all Alex said, his hand on his chest.

Max glanced at the way the airman’s fingers trembled. He hesitated. “Did he hurt you?”

“He didn’t mean to,” Alex said, wincing. “He’d never mean to.”

“You still love him,” Max noted.

Alex clenched his jaw, wincing as Max suddenly swerved.

“I’m sorry,” Max was just starting to say when Alex pointed.

“Max, the airstream!”

Max looked ahead, and saw Michael’s trailer. But something was wrong. It was vibrating, the ground around it cracking as if an earthquake was hitting in that confined space. As Max drove closer, the car started shaking, the windows cracking, and Max threw an arm out to shield both their heads as the glass shattered.

“Michael,” Max whispered.

“I have to stop him,” Alex said as the cracks in the ground spread out. “He’s going to take out Roswell.”

“Alex,” Max grabbed his wrist, stopping him. He’d wanted Alex here, but now… “Maybe it is too dangerous.”

Alex pulled his wrist back. “I love him. I have to try.”

Max looked to the airstream, imagined his brother inside, thinking that the person he loved more than anything was gone. He nodded. “Okay, but be careful.”

Alex nodded and stepped out.

*

His leg ached and his entire body begged him to lie down, but Alex kept walking. He stumbled a few times, but held onto a chair or truck to keep himself up. Pain coursed throughout his entire body, his head still aching where it had hit the wall. Michael had saved his life and nearly killed him for it. The bullet would’ve hit his heart if Michael hadn’t moved him out of the way, and while it had only come close to his most vital organ, that, in addition to the impact of being thrown against a wall, had been too much for Alex. He felt that pain now, burning him from the inside. He wanted to stop, to rest, to properly breathe, but he had to keep going. For Michael.

He all but fell against the airstream door, panting. He looked back to find Max standing beside his car for leverage, and he swallowed before he forced the door open. He slowly made his way inside to find Michael, at the end of the trailer, his knees pulled up to his chest, his face hidden.

“Guerin,” he breathed, but it was as if Michael couldn’t hear him. There was broken glass and plates surrounding him, his arms were covered in scratches, his nails digging into his arms. Alex’s eyes burned.

“Guerin, stop,” he tried as he made his way toward the cowboy, holding onto whatever he could to keep himself standing. “Please, Guerin, _please_ ,” he fell to his knees in front of Michael, wrapping his arms around him, whispering, “Stop.”

“Alex,” Michael muttered, his voice broken. He looked up slightly, and Alex saw that his eyes were red, his lower lip was cut as if he’d been chewing on it, he had damp curls stuck to his forehead and neck. “I’m dreaming.”

Michael’s eyes were out of focus. Alex took his face in his hands, his hold tight. “Look at me. Guerin. I’m right here, look at me!”

Michael’s eyes slowly went up, digging straight into Alex’s, and Alex felt a sudden shock of electricity course throughout his entire body. He shuddered and he didn’t know if it was because of the pain or something else entirely. All he knew for certain was that the trailer had stopped shaking. The ground had gone still, and Alex saw the realization dawn on Michael’s face.

“Alex,” he whispered. “Alex.”

“It’s me,” Alex said, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, Guerin. I’m so sorry I left you.”

“You’re real.”

“I’m real.”

“You’re alive.”

“I’m alive.”

“Alex,” he said before he pulled Alex to his chest, his face buried in the crook of Alex’s neck. Alex felt Michael’s hot breath on his skin, his tears, his tight grip, his trembling body. He felt it all.

“Guerin,” Alex closed his eyes, inhaling Michael’s scent. He had woken up in that hospital room and panicked when he couldn’t find Michael. Now that they were together, he felt his heart at ease, the tension in his body faded away. Whatever had been wrong was fixed now. He could breathe.

“I’m so sorry,” Michael pulled back, his face wet, his hands running up and down Alex’s head, his arms, his back – as if Michael was trying to reassure himself that Alex was there. “I’m so sorry, Alex.”

“Shh,” Alex wiped Michael’s tears away, and kissed his forehead. “You saved me, Guerin. You saved my life.”

“I almost killed you.”

“I trust you,” Alex said, looking into his eyes, and he felt it again. That sudden surge of energy. It felt like the room was spinning, though Alex knew it wasn’t. “Look, you stopped the earthquake by yourself.”

Michael frowned, looking around as if just realizing that the ground was no longer shaking. “No,” he muttered. “I didn’t – I didn’t do this.”

Alex blinked, his brows furrowed. “Then who did?”

Michael looked up at Alex, and he seemed to realize something as his grip on Alex tightened. “You did.”

“I stopped it?” Alex sniffed. “What are you talking about? How?”

“You’re soulmates,” they heard, and turned to see Max standing at the door, his expression astonished. “You shared Michael’s powers.”

“We,” Michael shook his head, “we can do that?”

“Sometimes,” Max said. “If you really need to. Alex,” he sighed with relief, his smile wide, “you did it.”

But Alex was no longer listening. All he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears, the pain of his injury compressing his chest, the weight of exhaustion pulling him down.

“Soulmates,” he muttered before he lost hold of himself and fell. The last thing he felt before the darkness took over was Michael’s arms around him, both his and Max’s voices calling his name, and he thought that maybe sharing alien powers wasn’t so safe for humans.


	38. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle is angry because Alex is hurt.

Alex tilted his head against the pillow, glancing every so often at Kyle who was working on bandaging him up with an intense focus. He felt Kyle’s warm fingers graze his stomach, his hand pressed lightly against Alex’s chest as he laid him down, his arm behind Alex’s neck, helping to keep his head up as he applied ointment to the wound – and something about it all made him want to laugh.

Instead, he sighed and leaned his head back on the pillow. “Say it.”

“Say what?” Kyle asked, though his expression was no less tense, his shoulders no less straight, his muscles no less flexed.

“Whatever you want,” Alex said, covering his eyes with his forearm, trying to ignore the sting in his side. “I’m listening.”

There was a moment of silence, then, “Okay,” Kyle said, his voice strained. Alex took a deep breath, bracing himself, then—

“What the hell were you thinking? I thought we were supposed to be partners! How could you jump into this without telling me?!” Kyle raged on, his voice rising with every word.

Alex lowered his arm after a moment to find Kyle glaring at him. “That it?”

“Give me a minute,” he said darkly, returning to check on Alex’s bandages. Alex scoffed, and Kyle looked up. “You think this is funny?” Alex said nothing, and Kyle stood. “You think this is funny.”

“No, no, I just—” Alex huffed a chuckle, and immediately winced. He breathed heavily, stretching out slowly. “I’m sorry, I just – I’ve never seen you so worried about me.”

“And that’s _funny_ to you?”

Alex burst out into breathy fits of giggles. “Apparently – ow, ow, _ow_.”

“Serves you right,” Kyle muttered, but he fixed another pillow under Alex’s head.

“You wanted a hospital,” Alex said, wincing, “I’m here.”

“You shouldn’t have had to come here at all,” Kyle said.

“Kyle, stop,” Alex said, moving his hand away. “I’m fine.”

Kyle stepped back, his fists tight at his side as if he was barely keeping himself from touching Alex again. Alex wondered when he would change into his doctor’s coat. After having seen Alex’s state, he had driven him to the hospital and put him in a bed without ever changing. The airman wondered if that was even allowed.

“I hate this,” Kyle said, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed tightly. “I hate that you went without me.”

“You hate that I’m the only one injured?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he snapped. “ _God_ , Alex, you still don’t get it.” He came to tower over Alex, his hands on the bed. Alex didn’t know why he was suddenly nervous, his heart racing. Maybe it was a reaction to the medication.

“You could’ve died, do you understand that?”

“It’s been days,” Alex noted. “Have you slept at all?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Kyle, _I’m fine_ ,” he sighed. “Better I end up in here than the both of us. At least no one found out you were in on Project Shepherd, too.”

“So that’s your brilliant conclusion? That everything’s okay because you would’ve been the only one who died?”

“I didn’t die.”

“You _could_ have, Alex, and you don’t even care!”

“Kyle, I’m military, remember?”

“Why are you so calm about this?!”

“You’re the doctor, shouldn’t _you_ be the calm one right now?”

“I almost lost you!” Kyle snapped, and Alex turned to look at him with furrowed brows. “You’re – you’re my…” He sighed, and slumped down in the chair next to Alex’s bed. “I almost lost you, Alex.”

Alex stared for a moment, then looked to the ceiling. “You didn’t. I’m fine.”

“Alex,” Kyle started, and Alex had the feeling there was something he really wanted to say, but after a pause, he shook his head. “Never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. “You wouldn’t listen away.”

Alex considered this, then, “I’m sorry I laughed.”

Kyle brought his hand down, watching Alex. Alex ignored the goosebumps forming along his arms at the doctor’s eyes on him. Should he mention it to Kyle? Maybe there was some kind of pill he could take.

“I just don’t get it, Alex. I know how you think, and this didn’t make any sense.”

“You know how I think,” Alex repeated under his breath. He didn’t know if he liked or hated having Kyle in his head.

“I know you like to do things alone, but that was always about wanting to protect everyone,” Kyle crossed his arms, “but lately, it’s like you’ve been trying to get yourself killed.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

A pause, then, “Is this about Guerin?” Alex tried not to wince. “You don’t have anything to prove to him, Alex.”

“I know,” Alex said.

“Do you? Because you used to be smarter than this. You used to actually _care_ about—”

“Well, maybe I cared too much!” Alex snapped, and Kyle blinked, falling silent. “My entire life, that’s all I’ve done, is _care_. I cared what my dad thought of me, I cared what my brothers said, I cared about Maria and Liz, I cared about Michael, and now they’re all gone! Everyone is – _ah_ —”

Alex winced loudly, his hand over his side. Kyle was beside him in an instant, guiding him back down, his hand over Alex’s. “Everyone’s gone,” Alex breathed as Kyle helped him settle in.

“I’m not gone,” Kyle said, and Alex blinked.

“What?”

Kyle sat back down in his chair, and leaned forward. “I’m not gone, Alex. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. Isn’t one person, someone who you know – someone who _cares_ about you… isn’t that enough?”

Alex clenched his jaw and looked away. “I don’t want to care anymore. If you’re all I have, then—”

“Then we care about each other,” Kyle finished. “Then we fight _together_.” He shrugged a shoulder. “That’s how we work, Manes.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. There it was again. _Manes_. Alex had never heard his family name said with anything but disdain, and yet Kyle always said it as if it was something precious, something valued, something he loved. Even after Jesse had killed Jim Valenti, Kyle still protected Alex, still looked after him, and he was still willing to walk into danger with him.

“Why?” Alex whispered. “You know what my dad’s done.”

“Alex,” Kyle breathed, the look on his face genuinely confused as he shook his head. “What does any of that have to do with you?”

Anything else Alex was going to say disappeared, his thoughts turned quiet. He still remembered Michael’s face, the way his eyes had followed Alex as if wary of him, the way he’d looked at Alex like the airman had been personally responsible for every miserable thing that had ever happened in his life, and all this time, Alex had thought Michael was right for treating him like the same criminal his father was. But now, at Kyle’s question, he found his mind a blank. _What does it have to do with you?_

Alex didn’t know.

“I’m sorry I got mad at you for laughing,” Kyle said, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

Alex shook his head, the corner of his lips rising in a half-smile. “I shouldn’t have left you behind.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Kyle said, and they both chuckled tiredly.

“I think the medication’s getting to my head,” Alex said, rubbing his face.

“You should get some rest.”

“So should you.”

Kyle pressed his lips together and looked to the clock on the wall. It was past midnight. Then he looked back at Alex, and said, “Later.”

“What, are you planning on watching me sleep?”

Kyle crossed his legs, seemingly trying to get comfortable. “Part of the curse, I guess.”

“What curse?”

“Caring,” he said.

Alex watched as Kyle took his own jacket off and blanketed himself with it. As he adjusted his position, Alex felt his heart hammering again, and he found that he couldn’t think of Liz, or Maria, or even _Michael_ – but of Kyle.

He put a hand over his heart, his fingers digging into his chest, and turned his face away to hide the blush that had spread to his cheeks. “Yeah,” he said, barely over a whisper. “I guess it is.”


	39. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael drunk dials Alex.

Alex woke to the sound of his phone ringing. He was used to fully waking at the drop of a hat, but after several sleepless nights pouring over Project Shepherd files, staring at computer codes for all hours of the day, and multiple injuries that had left him nearly dead at least three times within the last two months, Alex’s sleep schedule had been off. It was why, as he reached for his phone, he didn’t bother to open his eyes.

Kyle was the only one that called him anyway, which meant that Alex had a few more seconds to sleep through the, “Are you sure you’re up for this?” questions before he had to get up, get dressed, and get going.

Without saying a word, he mindlessly answered the call, pressed the phone to his ear, and waited for Kyle to speak, as he himself was too exhausted. Then—

“Private, you there?”

Alex frowned, his brows furrowed as he sat up, instantly awake. The background wasn’t the silence of a hospital or home, but the rowdiness of a bar. And the voice that spoke was…

“Guerin?” Alex said the name slowly, as if foreign to his lips, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“You _are_ there,” Michael said, and he sounded… relieved? Alex pushed the thought away, hard and fast. He hadn’t heard from Michael in nearly three months after he’d caught him and Maria at the Wild Pony together. Michael sounded like he was there again.

“Alex?”

Alex sighed, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Maybe if he hung up, he’d still have a chance to go back to sleep before the night was ruined. “I’m here.”

“You sound good,” Michael said, then, “No, you sound tired. But you – you know, you sound good when you’re tired, and when you’re just good – you sound good.”

Alex shut his eyes, his hand falling to the bed. “You’re drunk,” he said, though he hardly needed a confirmation.

“Yeah, I drunk…” he took a moment’s pause, then, “I _drank_ a lot. But not that much… but more than usual.” He sighed. “I kept drinking until I could pull my phone out, then I kept drinking until I could dial, then I kept drinking until I could call. And now I’m talking to you, Private.”

“Yeah,” Alex muttered. “Where are you? Does Max know?”

“He knows,” Michael said. “Can you come?”

“Why? I thought Max knew where you were.”

“He knows,” he repeated in the same tone. “Can you come anyway?”

Alex took a deep breath, his fist clenching in his blanket. “No, Guerin, I can’t.”

Michael said nothing, and for a minute, Alex was worried he had passed out. He hated that; he hated that he still worried, that he still thought of Michael at all, that he didn’t have the common sense to peek an eye open before answering his phone.

“I need you, Alex,” he said.

Alex’s frown deepened, and he hesitated pushing the blanket back. If Michael was hurt, and would refuse to call anyone else…

“I need to see you,” he said, and Alex clenched his jaw, his hand on his chest. _Damn it_ , he thought. He was still hanging on to every one of Michael’s words.

“No,” Alex said. “Call your brother, Guerin, not me.”

Alex was just about to hang up as he thought that maybe he should call Max instead. He didn’t know if he could trust Michael to do it himself.

“I don’t wanna talk to Max,” Michael said. “I wanna talk to you.”

“You’re drunk. You need to stop drinking, call your brother, and go home.”

“I don’t want to—” Michael raised his voice, then brought it back down to nearly a whisper. “I don’t want to call Max. _I want to talk to you_.” A moment’s pause, then, “And – and I want you to talk to me.”

_Damn it_. _Damn it, damn it, damn it._

“Talk to you about what?” he asked, then dialed Max’s number, sending him a text to tell him where his brother was. With any luck, he was still on sheriff’s duty tonight.

“I dunno, just – h-how’s your day going?”

Alex shut his eyes, exhausted. “It’s the middle of the night, Guerin, I was sleeping.”

“You’re pretty when you sleep,” Michael said almost dreamily. “I used to watch you, when you were in my bed. I always wanted to touch you and kiss you, but I was worried you’d wake up, so I never did.”

Alex swallowed past the lump forming in his throat and hummed, rubbing his eyes. He should’ve checked the damn name when he answered. He _should_ have checked.

“I couldn’t wake you, you always looked so tired,” he continued. “Did you know that? How tired you looked?”

Alex stared at the bedsheet. “Yeah,” was all he said, not trusting himself to say any more.

“I wish I could be there with you right now,” he said, and Alex exhaled shakily. “You probably – you don’t want me there, right?”

Alex said nothing, though his fingers unconsciously tightened on his right thigh. Sometimes when it was cold, he still felt the ache that had settled in his entire body, particularly his leg, after having spent all day waiting in that armchair, his hopeful gaze on the horizon, expecting to see Michael’s truck at any second. But then the sun set and Alex felt anxious. What if something had happened to Michael? What if he’d been hurt? Or worse?

He had gone to the Pony instead of panicking, choosing to believe that Michael was fine and alive, that he’d simply forgotten after everything he’d been through, and instead, what Alex had received was a shattered heart, never to be mended again. He knew then that there could never be anything between him and Michael Guerin. And he’d told him as much.

“No,” he said, his voice barely over a whisper, but firm enough that Alex could feel every cell in his body push the words out of his mouth. “I don’t.”

Michael was silent, then, “You don’t love me anymore?”

Alex’s shoulders fell, his voice a plea to his own ears as he said, “ _Guerin_ —”

“I can’t ask, Alex – I can’t,” there was shuffling, and the sound of glass scraping wood, “I can’t ask. I can ask now, I’m sorry, but I can, and I’m asking. Tell – please tell me. Do you not – you don’t love me anymore?”

Alex shook his head, his jaw clenched so tightly he felt blood. His eyes burned, and he rubbed them roughly. “It’ll just kill us both,” he said, and Michael seemed to take that as an answer because Alex stopped hearing his voice. He exhaled shakily. “Guerin? Guerin, are you there?”

There was a long moment of silence, and Alex, with dread crawling up his throat, pushed the blanket off his legs, swung them over the side of the bed, and was just reaching for his prosthetic when he heard—

“Can I still love you?”

Alex froze, his grip on his phone like iron. He couldn’t trust himself to speak, didn’t even know what he’d say if he could, but he listened closely to the other end in case he’d heard wrong. When Michael said his name, he blinked out of his thoughts. Michael was drunk. This conversation couldn’t mean anything because he was just drunk.

Alex had to remember what Michael was like when he was sober, the way he talked to Alex, the way he _taunted_ him. He couldn’t keep coming back to the cowboy for this, couldn’t keep trusting that they could have something, couldn’t keep trusting _him_.

“I…” he tried, but soon heard a familiar voice on the other line calling Michael’s name, asking him how much he had had to drink. It was Max.

“I’m just talking to him,” Michael said, some anger seeping into his voice, and Alex shut his eyes. “Alex,” he said, his voice clearer, “Alex, tell me, tell me I can—”

But Alex never heard what Michael wanted him to do because he hung up right then, and blocked Michael’s number. He let the phone fall to his lap, and stared at it.

After what felt like an hour had passed, Alex slowly put the phone on his nightstand, and lay back down in bed, his blanket pulled up to his chin. Alex closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but he knew there would be no use. He was wide awake now.


	40. Malex & Kylex

Alex exhaled shakily, his finger tapping on the metal desk as Liz, Max, Isobel, and Michael swarmed around him, going over scenarios and plans. Alex ducked his head, his eyes shut tight, trying not to think of the last time he’d seen Kyle in his cabin, the way he and Alex had laughed together before the door was suddenly broken down and armed soldiers flooded in.

Alex had barely enough time to knock two to the ground before Kyle was suddenly beaten unconscious and taken away, and Alex’s attention had diverted for a second. It had been enough to get the airman on the ground, calling Kyle’s name, promising he would come get him.

“Enough!” Alex snapped, and the bunker went silent. He looked up at the computers where surveillance from the cabin was playing. Alex had installed the cameras in case of a break-in, but now, as the screens played the attack on a loop, Alex found himself wishing he’d never had the damn things put up at all.

“Alex,” Liz said, her hand on his arm, but Alex moved away. He didn’t deserve any comfort.

“I’m going back to the cabin,” he said, throwing his backpack over his shoulders. “Maybe there’s something there that I can use to ID those soldiers with.”

“We’ve looked a hundred times,” Max said, his arms crossed.

“And we never found anything,” Liz added.

“Do whatever you want here,” Alex said, making sure his gun was at his belt. “I’m going.”

“Alex,” Michael took his elbow, and Alex pulled away. He tried to ignore the hurt look that passed Michael’s face as he turned to the door. “Alex, wait.”

“The longer we wait, the harder it could be for Kyle. You guys keep looking over the footage and the files, and I’ll go to the cabin and do my own search.”

“But you already tried that, Alex,” Isobel said.

“And now I’m a lot calmer, so maybe I’ll find something I didn’t the first time. _I’m going_. Any more objections? No? Okay then.”

Without waiting for their word, Alex opened the bunker door and walked out. It slammed shut behind him, but not before someone else came through.

“Alex, stop for a second,” Michael said, falling into step beside him. “You’ve been running on adrenaline for over a day, you’re gonna collapse if you don’t—”

“I’ll rest when Kyle’s back where I can see him.”

Michael said nothing for a moment, and he must’ve stopped following Alex because when he spoke again, he was far behind him. “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

Alex sighed, rubbing his face. “Not now, Guerin.”

Michael jogged up to him. “I know the reason who’re trying so hard to get him back is because you feel guilty, but you shouldn’t. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

“I don’t feel guilty, Guerin, I just want him back.”

Michael stopped. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, _what do I mean_?!” Alex snapped. “My best friend was taken, and I want him back, what part of that don’t you understand?!”

“Why are you getting angry at me?”

“I’m not! I’m…” he stopped, taking a deep breath. He had to calm down, he _had_ to. “I’m not,” he said again, his voice lower. “I’m sorry, I’m just… look, you can stay here if you want, but I have to go, okay? I’m sorry, I really have to go.”

Alex turned to leave, his eyes burning. He hated that after all this time, after everything that had happened, Michael could still get to him. Kyle was barely gone a day, and Alex already missed having someone to talk to who wouldn’t make him feel like an open book, someone that didn’t push, someone that didn’t always require so much of him. He wanted Kyle back. He wanted to be with someone who made him _want_ to open himself up more, not someone who made him fear it.

“I’ll come with you,” Michael suddenly said, and Alex barely gave him a nod as he pulled out his phone. He checked the signal, trying to trace Kyle’s again, but just as it was the first fifty times, he saw nothing.

He sighed, pocketing his phone. Maybe there were some traces of blood he could find. He remembered breaking one of their noses, they must’ve left evidence behind. Did he have his blacklight with him? Yeah, he was sure he did. _Damn_ , he thought. _Why am I panicking?_ Everything was going to be fine, wasn’t it? Just _fine_.

“Alex, stop!” Michael caught at his arm, pulling him back just before a car raced past them. Alex blinked. He’d been so caught in his own thoughts that he hadn’t realized he was walking onto the road.

His fingers trembled. He was going to lose Kyle. He couldn’t even focus on the path in front of him, how was he supposed to save his friend?

“Alex,” Michael kept his hold on Alex’s arm tight. “Are you okay?”

Alex felt himself nod, though his heart raced in his chest, his breathing quickened. He remembered Kyle’s smile, his laugh, his trusting eyes as Alex told him he would protect him no matter what. And now…

“Alex, hey, _Alex_ —”

“I can do this, right?” he asked, and Michael turned silent. “I can save him… right?”

Michael stared a moment, his brows furrowed, then, “You’re really worried about him.”

Alex released a shaky breath as he crouched down, hugging his knees. His right leg ached with the pressure, but he didn’t care. Where was Kyle? Where was his comforting hand?

“It’s all my fault,” he whispered. “You were right, Guerin. My family is a curse.”

“No,” Michael kneeled down on the ground beside him. “Hey, I didn’t…”

“He got involved with me, and look what happened.” Alex shook his head. “Anyone who comes near me suffers. I just never thought it’d be Kyle. He was never supposed to get hurt.”

“So you do blame yourself,” Michael said with a humorless chuckle. “Of course you do.”

Alex bit his lower lip to keep from crying, though his eyes turned glassy. If anything happened to Kyle, he didn’t think he would ever recover.

“Alex, you shouldn’t—”

“How can you even say that?” Alex asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You have no idea how this feels. Isobel lived guilt-free her entire life because you pretended to be the one to kill Rosa. Max is alive and breathing because of you and Liz.” He rubbed his face. “You don’t want to admit it, Guerin, but you _fix_ things. You fix people, and I… I only break them.”

“That’s not true!”

“Really?” Alex asked. “Then tell me, who has ever been better off because they knew me? And don’t say _you_ , because I’ll know you’re lying.”

Michael said nothing for a moment, his eyes boring into Alex’s. Then, he said, “ _Me_.”

Alex shut his eyes, shaking his head before he stood. He sniffed, wiping his face with his sleeve. Had Michael forgotten that Alex had been there in that toolshed when they were kids? That he had been there at the fair? At Caulfield?

He sighed. “Let’s just go.”

Michael said nothing for a moment, then he was suddenly at Alex’s side, walking with him. All that mattered now was Kyle. Conversations with Michael never turned out well, and only led to heartache. Alex had to move beyond that. He had to move forward. He couldn’t live off lies and false sentiments anymore. He needed something real. He needed Kyle.


	41. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael shrinks Alex's sweater in the wash.

“Er – Guerin?” Michael looked over his shoulder, and his throat fell into his stomach when he saw Alex holding his Air Force sweater which had shrunken at least two sizes, his brows furrowed.

Alex shrugged. “How?”

“Uh,” Michael cleared his throat and resumed working, pretending his heart wasn’t hammering in his chest. “I – yeah, I, uh – thought I’d do your laundry for you.”

“Why?”

“You were tired,” Michael said simply. “Wanted to help.”

“Really,” Alex said, though it sounded more like a statement than a question, and Michael shut his eyes. “And what’re you doing now?”

“Fixing your air-conditioner.”

“But it’s not broken.”

Michael shut his eyes, his jaw clenched. This was not how he imagined today going. “Well, uh, I – you know, I…”

“Guerin?”

“Hm?”

“Could you maybe look at me for a second?” Alex sounded amused.

Michael sighed, his shoulders slumped. He turned to find Alex beside his feet on the ladder, looking up at him with a calm smile at his lips.

“Why are you fixing it if it’s not broken?”

“I thought I could get the temperature down,” he said. “Make the place cooler.”

“And my showerhead?”

“I was trying to raise the water pressure.”

Alex nodded slowly, his lips pursed. “And my kitchen floorboards?”

“Those were splintered, they were a health hazard.” At Alex’s look, Michael sighed, climbing down the ladder until he was standing in front of the airman. For a moment, he thought Alex might move back, might shove him away, but Alex didn’t even look annoyed. Michael wasn’t used to this, to being allowed to stay in Alex’s space without being expected to leave. He so desperately wanted it to be permanent.

“I was just trying to help.”

Alex’s smile widened, but he ducked his head, running his fingers over his sweater. “I can’t wear this anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s too small.”

“I know.”

Alex huffed a chuckle, and Michael looked up, surprised, but the airman’s attention was on his sweater. “Kind of feels like a gift from you. Even though it’s mine.” His brows furrowed. “Does that make sense?”

Michael frowned. “A – A gift?”

Alex shook his head, his smile dimming. “No, you’re right, it’s stupid.”

He turned, and, overcome with a sudden panic that this would be the only time they got to talk, Michael reached out, grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I – I didn’t – I didn’t say _that_.”

Alex faced him again, following Michael’s hand as he slowly released the airman’s shirt.

Michael realized he was staring at Alex’s expectant face, and blinked. “It’s just – if you want me to give you something—”

“No, I don’t,” he rubbed his face. “I don’t want _things_ , Guerin, I – I’m not saying this right – you washed this because you thought it would help me. _That’s_ my gift… you know? The intention.”

Michael looked at the sweater in Alex’s hands, the way his fingers tightened in the fabric, before he looked up at Alex, something in his chest shifted and warmer. “It really means that much to you?”

Alex sighed, seemingly relieved to have gotten his point across. “It really means that much to me.”

He bit his lower lip, and Michael suddenly wished he could bite it instead. Alex seemed so nervous, so insecure, so unsure of Michael’s feelings for him, and all Michael wanted to do was kiss the airman until their lips were swollen and Alex could taste his own name on Michael’s tongue.

He must not have noticed Michael lean in though because he suddenly pointed at the air-conditioner with his sweater. “Does that really need fixing though?”

Michael looked at the air-conditioner. _No_ , he should’ve said. _Nothing in this place needs fixing. But it’s the only excuse I have._

“It’s getting pretty late,” Alex said, looking over his shoulder at the window outside. “Shouldn’t you be heading back?”

Michael searched Alex’s face. He should tell the truth. He should tell Alex there was no need for him to be there. He should leave. And yet…

He swallowed. “After I fix the bedroom door.”

“What’s wrong with my bedroom door?”

“I heard a creaking,” Michael defended, looking to the air-conditioner with his hands on his hips as if evaluating how else to tweak it.

Behind him, he heard Alex huff an amused sigh. “I’ll put some coffee on.”

As he walked out, Michael smiled.


	42. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has been depressed, and Kyle comes to Michael for help.

Alex hadn’t spoken to Michael in months, and Michael had started to feel it within the first week. He thought of Alex when he woke up and Alex when he fell asleep. He thought of Alex as he worked on car engines, changed tires, replaced windows. No matter what he was doing, Alex was on his mind.

Michael roughly turned the wrench, his other hand on the hood of the car as he thought of the last time he’d seen Alex. The airman hadn’t spoken a word to him, hadn’t even _looked_ at him, but Michael had been able to look at no one else. Kyle Valenti had been with him, his brows furrowed and a frown at his lips as he stepped closer to the airman, close enough to kiss, and Alex hadn’t even turned away. If anything, it looked like he _welcomed_ Valenti’s touch. Just the memory of it burned his chest and had him levitating the lawn chairs and bonfire behind him by accident.

He closed his eyes, sighing as everything landed roughly back on the ground.

“Tough day?”

Michael looked up. It was no wonder that, after being unable to move Alex from his mind for even a second, seeing Kyle Valenti in his junkyard brought up more memories of the airman.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Some welcome.”

“You’re not welcome,” Michael said with an edge despite himself, but Kyle didn’t seem the least bit affected.

“I need to talk to you.”

“’Bout what?” Michael asked, returning his focus to the engine. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Kyle, to think that Alex had touched him so intimately, that Kyle had kissed him, that they had—

“Alex.”

Michael stilled. He swallowed, smirking despite feeling anything but humored. “What? Come to ask for my blessings? You guys wanna have sex, have at it, you don’t need my permission.”

“Would you shut up for two seconds and listen to me?” Kyle snapped, his voice quiet, but dark. Every muscle in Michael’s body tensed, and his smirk fell away. Taking this as a sign to continue, Kyle ran a hand through his hair, obviously lost on how to phrase the problem. _Spit it out!_ Michael almost yelled, but if it turned out nothing and he seemed too eager, Kyle might tell Alex, and then there really would be no pretending that Michael didn’t care about him.

“He’s depressed,” Kyle said, and at Michael’s raised brow, he huffed, “Like, _really_ depressed, Guerin. A week after Caulfield, he and I went to visit this psychic who was supposed to have been part of Project Shepherd back in the eighties. She – I don’t know – she freaked him out, told him he was going to end up just like his dad. A monster and alone.”

Michael frowned. “And Alex _bought_ that? That doesn’t sound like him.”

“Really? Given recent evidence, you’ll have to forgive him for entertaining the idea,” Kyle said angrily, and it was only now that Michael realized the dark circles under his eyes, the way his hand slightly trembled – Michael wondered how long it had been since he had slept, and if that had anything to do with taking care of Alex. If his airman needed someone to take care of him, and wasn’t bothering with hiding it, then something really was wrong.

“Where is he now?”

“The cabin,” Kyle said, then shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’s been in bed for days. He barely eats or sleeps, I – I don’t know what else to do.”

And Michael hated to ask. He hated that he _needed_ to ask, but…

“Where’s the cabin?”

Kyle’s shoulders fell. He shook his head as if saying that he should’ve known better, and he turned around. “I’ll drive on ahead of you.”

Michael swallowed, the rag he’d picked up to clean his hands clenched tightly between his fingers. “Later.”

Kyle stopped in his tracks. “ _Later_?”

“I, uh,” he gestured to the car in front of him. “I still have to finish this. I’ll go later, just give me the directions.”

Kyle’s frown deepened as he glanced at the car. “Did you not hear me? _Alex needs help_ , we don’t have time to argue about this.”

But Michael couldn’t face him. Couldn’t bear to take the rejection in his eyes if he saw Michael. And what if he did accept him? What if he looked to Michael and asked him if he believed in the psychic’s words? If he believed that Alex was anything like his father? How would Michael say no and mean it? How would Alex ever believe him if he lied?

“He’ll be fine with you for a while,” Michael said, the words burning his tongue. _He_ should be the one with Alex, _he_ should be the one looking after him. To give that honor to Kyle, of all people, seemed like a betrayal of everything his heart yearned for. “After I finish work—”

“Forget your goddamn work!” Kyle snapped, beating a fist against the car Michael had been fixing. “Alex _needs_ you. Isn’t that more important?”

Michael said nothing, and Kyle scoffed. “If it wasn’t for Alex, I wouldn’t even bother. But I’ve tried _everything_ , and he’s still miserable. _So_ ,” he seethed, pointing at his own truck, “get your ass in the damn car before I put _you_ in a coma, and I swear, I’ll leave you here to rot, Guerin.”

Michael swallowed, his brows furrowed, his eyes burning. He wasn’t afraid of Kyle, but he was afraid of whatever possessed Kyle to be so protective of Alex. He was afraid that it would take him out of the picture completely, he was afraid that with Kyle so desperate to save him, Alex would think that was enough. That he’d really never think about Michael again.

Without a word, he did as he was told, and he and Kyle drove in silence. Michael blinked at the large cabin. “How did Alex afford this?”

Kyle pulled out something glittering from his pocket; a key. Valenti had a _key_ to the place?

“My dad left it to him in his will.”

“Your dad,” Michael repeated. The thought of even Kyle’s family protecting Alex bothered him. They were so intertwined, every aspect of their life connected. What was Michael supposed to mean to him?

“Come on,” he said, opening his door. “Keep your voice down. He was sleeping before I left.”

They stepped out of the car, up the porch, and into the cabin. As Kyle slowly moved around, Michael couldn’t help but think how smoothly he did it, as if he’d walked these halls a hundred times. He silently inhaled. He _had_ to calm down.

Kyle glanced over his shoulder at him as they came to a stop in front of a partly closed room, and he gently pushed the door open, revealing a bedroom.

Michael looked around. It was as neat as he expected Alex’s room might be. No dark colors, no band posters, no _anything_ that might’ve associated this Alex with the Alex he had known as a kid. Instead, there were files strewn around the foot of a bed, several papers having fallen out and jumbled together.

“What is all this—” he tried to ask, but Kyle instantly turned, shushing him. Michael looked curiously over his shoulder, his heart sinking when he saw Alex sleeping on the bed, his back turned to them.

“He started to slip a few days after the psychic,” Kyle whispered, very slowly making his way to the bed, and taking a seat beside Alex. “He was obsessed with shutting Project Shepherd down. Little by little, he just stopped showing up at the bunker. Then he stopped sleeping. Then he stopped eating. Then he stopped doing anything. I’ve had to make sure he’s taken his medication over a dozen times already.”

“Medication?”

“For his leg,” Kyle sighed. “And nightmares. Sometimes he forgets, but lately it feels like he just stopped caring.” He put the blanket up to cover Alex’s shoulders. “I mean, look at this,” his voice cracked. “Usually, just coming into the driveway would’ve been enough to wake him up. Now, nothing does.”

Michael stepped closer to the bed. All those times that Alex had ignored him, that he hadn’t even looked at him, and Michael had never known that things were so bad. He remembered his earlier concern of having to lie to Alex, but seeing him like _this_ – so beaten down and sad – it felt like such a pitiful excuse not to face the man he loved.

Tears filled his eyes, and he whispered, “Was it always this bad?”

“Just gets worse every day,” Kyle said, and Alex suddenly started hyperventilating, squirming around in bed as if he was bleeding out. “It’s okay,” the doctor breathed, and pushed the blanket down to reveal Alex’s stump.

He started rubbing circles into the muscle, whispering, “It’s okay, buddy, I’m right here,” soothingly, over and over. Michael watched as Alex’s squirming and whimpers slowly subsided, and he was breathing regularly again, fast asleep.

Michael stepped back. “W – What was…”

“He gets a lot of pain in his leg,” Kyle said, seemingly having not noticed Michael move further away in a slight panic as he tucked Alex in again, moving his bangs from his eyes. _His hair’s gotten longer_ , Michael thought uselessly. “Wakes up sometimes with this look on his face, like he’s forgotten.”

Kyle sighed and stood, pointing to the door. “Come on, we better let him sleep.”

He walked out, but Michael found himself unable to move. Alex’s brows were still furrowed, though he wasn’t fidgeting anymore. Michael reached down to touch his cheek, but just before he could, Alex groaned and moved away, as if even in his sleep, he was forbidding Michael from coming near him.

Michael’s fingers curled into a fist, and he let it fall to his side. He kept his eyes on Alex as he moved back, and finally left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Does his leg hurt a lot?” he finally asked as Kyle went to the kitchen, pulling out a pot.

“He says it’s just a little discomfort,” Kyle said, opening the fridge and pantry like he was used to doing it. “But I’ve seen enough pain to know what it looks like.”

Michael leaned against a couch, rubbing his face. “Yeah. That sounds like Alex. What’re you doing?”

“Making some soup. It’s all he can stomach nowadays.”

Michael stared. “You usually make him food?”

“Just lately,” Kyle said without looking at him. “Like I said, he’s been sick.”

The cowboy swallowed, looking to Alex’s closed door. “He’s like this because of me.”

“No.”

Michael looked to Kyle to see him watching him with a dark look in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, his hands on the counter. “I’m not saying it for you. I’m saying it for him. Alex won’t break because of you.” He went back to chopping carrots. “No matter what, he would’ve gone to that psychic, and she would’ve told him what she did. Alex was always afraid of ending up like Jesse. One way or another, he would’ve needed to end up here.”

“What, so depressed he can’t even move?” Michael scoffed humorlessly, the thought of Alex in bed weighing him down.

“Alex was always heading in this direction, since we were kids,” he said. “He’s always been angry, and then he was scared, then sad, and now he’s just…” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “He has to have this now. Get it out of his system, but he’ll be fine. I know he will.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because I was hoping you could speed up the process.”

“There’s nothing to speed up,” someone suddenly said, and they both saw Alex coming out of his room. His voice was hoarse, his skin pale, the circles under his eyes dark, and he leaned against the doorframe slightly before he pushed himself off and made his way into the kitchen. “I’m fine.”

“You woke up,” Kyle said, the knife and bell peppers falling from his hands as he watched Alex with relief.

“Were you expecting me to be asleep all day?” Alex asked, though Michael couldn’t miss the way he winced as he put his jacket over his shoulders.

“Here,” he said, moving toward Alex. “Let me help.”

“What the hell’s he doing here?” Alex asked without sparing Michael a glance. He opened his fridge and pulled out a water bottle.

“He came to see you,” Kyle said with a meaningful glance at Michael. “I was just as surprised as you are.”

Alex tilted his head at Kyle, his hands stilling on his water bottle, his lips pursed as he swallowed. Then, for the first time in a _long_ time, he turned to look at Michael.

“Is that true?” he asked.

Michael glanced at Kyle who was watching him as if to say, _Lie_. Michael swallowed and smiled, though everything in him wanted to hold Alex to his chest and cry. “Yeah, you saying you don’t want me here, Private?”

Alex watched his face a moment, then scoffed, taking another sip of his water before he said, “You really think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

Kyle’s shoulders slumped. “Alex—”

“I don’t need him here,” Alex said, turning back to the bedroom. “He can leave.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Michael said.

“Too bad.”

“ _Alex_ —”

“Go back to your girlfriend, Guerin,” Alex said, and glanced at Kyle. “You shouldn’t have brought him.”

“You’re not okay!”

“And you think _he’s_ going to fix it?” Alex snapped, and Michael stepped back. Alex huffed a humorless chuckle, his glare moving to the cowboy. “I bet you didn’t even want to come here. Right?”

Michael said nothing, and Alex scoffed, the hurt on his face brief. “What’d you say to him?” he asked Kyle. “What’d you do to _make_ him come? No, never mind, don’t tell me.”

Alex went into his bedroom, but before Kyle could saying anything, Michael followed the airman, shutting the door behind him.

“I want you out.”

“How are you?” Michael asked, and Alex turned to him with narrowed eyes.

“Fine.”

“No, Alex. _How are you_?”

Alex searched his face, then sighed. “What do you think?”

Michael clenched his jaw, his eyes burning. “Alex, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry,” Alex pressed his lips together. “Noted. Bye.”

“So you won’t even listen to me?”

“No,” Alex stepped up to him, pointing his finger in Michael’s chest. “You don’t get to do that, not this time. I didn’t leave you, Guerin, this isn’t me walking away. This is me being done. Done with being the monster, done with being the failure, done with losing – I’m just _done_.”

“I never meant to—”

“I don’t care what you meant! I care about what you did!”

“How could you even say that?” Michael stepped forward, touching Alex’s cheek only for Alex to flinch away as if the touch burned him. “Alex, it’s _me_. We always fight and we always get back together, that’s how we work!”

“Really?” Alex asked. “Look me in the eyes, and tell me you’re not angry at me for what my father’s done.”

Michael exhaled shakily. “Alex, please—”

“Answer the question, Guerin.”

“Don’t do this—”

“Just say it—”

“Alex—”

“Say the damn words!”

“I can’t!” Michael confessed, then, quieter, “I can’t.”

Alex nodded, and a tear fell down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly and turned as if he didn’t think Michael deserved to see him cry. “Sorry your day was interrupted. Please leave.”

Michael shook his head, his own eyes filling with tears. He stepped forward, hugging Alex from behind, his hold on the airman tight. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop. Please give me a chance to stop.”

Alex reached up, gripping Alex’s arm with his hand so tightly that Michael thought his skin would bruise, but he didn’t care. He wanted Alex to hold on tighter, and just before he could say so, Alex called out for Kyle, and tried to step out of Michael’s grip.

“What – no!”

“Kyle!” Alex called again, and Kyle came in just as Alex managed to free himself.

“What happened?”

“Take Guerin home,” he said without looking at Michael.

“Okay,” Kyle said, tugging on Michael’s arm. “Okay.”

Michael felt something inside him burn away as he stepped out of the room, his eyes on Alex, silently _begging_ him to turn around and look at him. But Alex wouldn’t. Not for him.


	43. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex misses his dog.

Michael’s eyes felt heavy as he sat at Alex’s bedside, the same place he’d been sitting all day. Alex had woken up hours ago, but seemed paralyzed as he lay on his side, staring ahead into space without uttering a word.

“Alex,” Michael said, and coughed immediately, his voice dry and itchy.

Alex hummed briefly.

“Are you feeling better?”

Alex said nothing as he turned his face deeper into the pillow. Michael reached out to hold the hand the airman had had beside him, and Alex’s fingers gently closed around his. Since Alex had cried himself to sleep a week ago when he’d come in, Michael found that he’d been more willing to let Michael touch him. The first time Michael had touched his shoulder, he fully expected Alex to flinch away, but the airman’s eyes only closed, and he fell asleep. The second time Michael had lightly touched his cheek, and Alex had actually turned into the warmth. It was one of the reasons Michael found it impossible to leave. He didn’t know when Alex would come back to his senses and refuse Michael’s touch. That, and when Michael was at the airstream, it was impossible to think of anything but Alex.

He chanced another hand up, gently raking his fingers through Alex’s hair until Alex turned his face from his pillow, looking up at Michael with red eyes. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Alex sniffed. “Why are you here?”

Michael took his hand from Alex’s hair. “You want me to leave?”

Alex said nothing, only tugging Michael’s hand closer so that the cowboy was forced to move out of his chair and stand beside Alex’s bed. “I want…”

Michael leaned in. “Yeah? What is it? I’ll go get it for you.”

Alex sighed, a tear sliding down the bridge of his nose. “I want Fiona.”

His heart beat painfully in his chest. “I… I, uh…”

“I know, Guerin,” he whispered, closing his eyes, his hold on Michael’s hand tightening as he pulled it to his chest. “I know.”

Michael hesitated, then leaned forward, and pressed his lips to Alex’s temple.

Alex inhaled sharply, pulling away, his hand slipping from Michael’s. “What’re you doing?”

He stepped back. “I – I just—”

“Alex,” Kyle walked in, his eyes on the file in his hands. “Time for your medication.”

“But I feel better,” Alex muttered, avoiding Michael’s eyes. “I don’t need it.”

“Yeah, well,” he closed the file and smiled innocently at Alex, “I’m the expert, and I say you do.”

Alex rubbed his eyes. “I’m feeling well enough to go home.”

“And I will happily take you,” Kyle said, helping Alex sit up against his pillows, “in a few days, after your fever’s gone, and I know there’s no threat.”

Alex winced as he leaned against the pillows, but as Michael blinked, the airman rubbed his face, hiding it from Kyle. “You worry too much,” he said.

“You don’t worry enough,” Kyle said as he pressed the back of his hand to Alex’s forehead, then his cheek. “You’re sweating, are you nervous about something?” he joked, but Michael couldn’t miss the way Alex glanced at him then quickly away, his cheeks turning red.

Something in him soared at the thought that he could still make Alex blush. If he could just get Kyle out and be alone with the airman for a little longer, maybe Alex would let him kiss him again, maybe he would listen to Michael, let him explain. Maybe he would forgive him.

“Well, sweating’s good, it means the fever’s gone down.”

“So I can leave,” Alex said.

“I said it’s gone down, I didn’t say it was gone,” Kyle said, checking the IV strips. “You really did a number on yourself, Alex.”

Alex sighed tiredly, as if he had no energy to say anything else.

“You want some water?”

He shook his head, rubbing his face. Michael thought it was meant to look casual, though he couldn’t miss the way Alex focused his fingers on his eyes. “You have anything back at the cabin you want me to bring?”

“I’ll go,” Kyle stood and stretched. “It’s time for my break anyway.”

Michael put a hand up, stopping him. “I said I’d go—”

“Do you even know where anything is?” Kyle asked, and Michael clenched his jaw, unable to answer. He looked to Alex. “I’ll go get it, what do you need?”

Alex was still for a moment, then, “Fiona’s pictures. They’re in—”

“Your bedroom, I know. On the nightstand?”

Alex only nodded, and Kyle patted his shoulder before he promised him he’d be right back, and left. The silence that followed was painful. Michael replayed the scene between the doctor and the airman in his head, the intimacy of it like a nail digging into his heart. Kyle talked like he lived with Alex, and Michael feared that maybe there was some truth to that. The idea that they were so comfortable around each other that Kyle could easily say he would be going into Alex’s cabin without Alex being there, and Alex being so okay with it that he hardly batted an eye – it was all too much. How far behind was he?

“You mad at me for kissing you?” Alex looked up at him, startled. He shook his head. “Really?”

“Guerin, I…” he reached out for something beside him, seemed to realize it wasn’t there, and his hand turned to a fist, falling onto the bed. “Why are you here?”

Michael swallowed, then took a seat in the chair next to him. “Would you have left?”

“I don’t know,” Alex confessed. “I would hope so.”

“I wouldn’t. Think about it, I’m lying here, so sick I can’t even leave, and—”

“I don’t want to think about that,” Alex said quietly, and Michael’s joke fell short. He pressed his lips together, nodding. “So you wouldn’t leave.”

Alex closed his eyes, and said nothing else. Michael was content with watching him, the corner of his lips turning upward slightly. Alex’s jaw was sharp, his lips pursed, his long lashes curled against his rosy cheeks. It baffled Michael how someone could only grow more and more beautiful every day. Michael leaned in, hoping to just brush his lips against Alex’s cheek, see if it was as warm as it looked, but then the door opened, and he stood.

“Got ‘em,” Kyle panted. Michael thought he must’ve really hurried if he was so out of breath. “There ya go.”

“Thanks,” Alex said as he took the pictures, and without taking a second to look at them, he turned them over, and was about to tear them when both Michael and Kyle came closer, yelling at him to stop.

“Alex, what’re you doing?!” Michael yelled as Kyle snatched the photos from him.

“You don’t have any copies of these!” Kyle warned.

Alex stretched a hand toward Kyle. “Give them back.”

“Are you out of your mind? Kyle asked. “These are the last things you have of her.”

“And if I get rid of them, I won’t think about her anymore.”

“You think that makes the pain stop?” Michael asked, and Alex clenched his jaw, his eyes on Kyle as they filled with tears. “You think it makes _anything_ better?”

“I don’t want to…” he muttered, and Michael felt himself getting angry. This was Alex Manes, _his_ Alex Manes – how could he want to give up so easily? Since when did he prefer numbness to grief? He was supposed to be the one that chose to feel, _he_ was the one that guided Michael back from feeling lost – how would he do that if he was lost, too?

He grabbed Alex’s shoulders, his grip tight, shaking the airman slightly. “Don’t want what? Don’t want to feel it anymore?”

Alex squirmed away from him, a tear falling down his cheek. “I don’t want to…”

“ _What_?”

“Guerin,” Kyle put a hand on Michael’s shoulder, pulling him back. “Stop it, he’s already sick—”

“What don’t you want, Alex? _Tell me_!”

Alex shoved him away, reaching out to take the pictures from Kyle. “They’re my pictures,” he breathed. “I get to do what I want with them, _hand them over_.” When Kyle hesitated, Alex snapped, “NOW!”

Kyle clenched his jaw, his eyes on Alex as he put the pictures back in his hands.

_Fiona was the last proof he had that… he was good. That he was just… Alex._

“Fine, Alex, that’s fine,” Michael said quietly. “But know this. If you tear those pictures, I swear I’ll never speak to you again.”

Alex stilled, his expression on the photographs seemingly blank.

“I’ll walk right out, and you’ll _never_ see me.”

After what felt like an hour, Alex’s shoulders fell ever so slightly, and he dropped the photos to his lap.

Kyle released the breath he was holding and said, “Thank you.”

But Alex didn’t seem to hear him as he stared at the pictures. Michael watched him carefully, to see if he would try to rip them again, but he just settled back against his pillows, his eyes on his dog.

“Okay,” Kyle said slowly, as if afraid that any sudden loud sounds would frighten the airman. Michael, however, didn’t think Alex was in a state to react to anything. “I have to go finish up my rounds. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Alex moved onto his side, turning his back to them, Fiona’s photos in his arms.

Michael caught Kyle’s eyes, the doctor silently warning him to keep an eye on Alex. _If he does anything to those pictures, he_ will _regret it. Don’t let him._

But Michael didn’t need Kyle to tell him. He had feared to leave Alex before. Now he refused it. He stared at Alex, unable to look away. He vaguely registered Alex’s room door opening and closing, and he knew he and Alex were alone. He should’ve kept his distance, he should’ve tried getting Alex to talk first, or maybe he should’ve stayed completely silent. But instead, he sat on Alex’s bed, lying down beside him, his arm around waist.

Alex tensed in his hold for a moment, his fingers cut with how roughly he was scraping his skin across the photos’ edge, but he soon melted into Michael’s hold, letting the cowboy pull him in against his chest.

“Just for a little bit,” Alex muttered, another tear falling down the bridge of his nose.

Michael nodded, pressing his nose against the nape of Alex’s neck, his hold on him tightening.


	44. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle confesses he has feelings for Alex.

Kyle swallowed nervously, glancing over his shoulder at Alex who had his back turned to him, his eyes on a screen, his headphones on. He and Alex used to do all their work together, their heads buried over files, their words of aliens and planet alignments and government organizations with only a few jokes and meaningless comments in between, but they had been close enough for Kyle to inhale Alex’s scent. Close enough for Kyle to actually look forward to coming to the bunker, despite knowing that whatever they found out would end in either blood or tears or both.  
He blamed himself. When he had first said those words two weeks ago, he knew there would be some repercussions, he knew he may lose Alex, but he couldn’t bear holding it in anymore, not when it was eating him up from the inside.  
And then Alex had gone silent. Red, then silent. With his headphones. Kyle exhaled deeply and cleared his throat, preparing himself. He held his file with a tight grip.  
“Alex,” he said.  
Alex hummed, focused on the screen in front of him.  
“I, uh – I finished looking over some of our dads’ notes.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Yeah, I had some thoughts.”  
“Hm.”  
“I was wondering,” Kyle said, trying his best to make his voice seem casual. “There are a few heat signatures registered here that were found back in the nineties, maybe some more secret government hideaways, I’m in love with you, and I think the decrypted coding is definitely worth looking into more.”  
But Alex was already turning in his seat, his eyes wide and brows furrowed as he pulled one headphone off his ear. “What did you just say?”  
Kyle swallowed. “Decrypted coding?”  
Alex looked suspicious a moment, then shrugged, turning back to his work. “I must’ve been in front of this computer for way too long if I’m starting to hear things—”  
“I said I’m in love with you, Alex!” Kyle blurted before he could help it.  
Alex stared, startled, then looked away. He took his headphones off and set them in front of him, turning to face Kyle completely. He leaned forward, rubbing his hands together as if wanting to have something to do, but not knowing what.  
“I know,” he said. “You told me.”  
“And I’m so sorry I did,” Kyle said with a nervous chuckle. He dropped it quickly and moved a chair to sit in front of Alex, keeping far enough away that they didn’t touch, but close enough that he could see every detail of Alex’s face. His eyelashes, each strand of his hair, the sparkle in his eyes that never seemed to go away – and it all soothed him somehow. “Alex, this silence is killing me. I didn’t think it’d make things so awkward—”  
At Alex’s raised brow, Kyle shut his eyes. “Okay, I knew it would be awkward, but I didn’t think it’d be this bad! Honestly, you’re pretty blunt, I thought you’d just turn me down right away, but it’s been weeks, and we haven’t talked at all.”  
The corner of Alex’s lips rose. “We’re talking now.”  
Kyle sighed, his fingers intertwined painfully tight. “If you don’t feel anything for me, could you just tell me? That way, maybe we wouldn’t have to dance around each other so much.”  
Alex ducked his head. “I—”  
“I mean, just say it!” Kyle stood, moving around the chair to the end of the room. The further away from Alex he moved, strangely enough, the more nervous he got. “I can take it! You don’t think I knew you’d turn me down? I knew! But I wanted to tell you because I don’t think anybody ever tells you which is crazy because you deserve to hear it, Alex, because you’re amazing! I guess that’s why I felt the way I did.”  
“Kyle—”  
“And – and I know you had that thing with Guerin, but he’s not here, and I am, Alex, and I’m… you know, I’m…”  
“In love with me,” Alex finished softly. He stood, moving closer to the doctor. “Kyle, I’m trying to—”  
“I know, I know!” Kyle said. “You’re trying to let me down easy, and you don’t want to hurt me, but the truth is, getting hurt is inevitable, and I’m okay with that! I’ve been ready for that. So go ahead, Alex, tell me. I can handle it.”  
“Kyle—”  
“Go ahead, just rip the Band-Aid off!”  
“Kyle—”  
“I know I’m not an angry cowboy,” Kyle said. “I don’t have any freaky mind powers, but I can still—”  
Kyle was interrupted suddenly as Alex took his face in his hands, crashing their lips together. Kyle made a startled noise at the back of his throat, but as Alex started to pull away, he recognized it more as a whimper.  
Alex’s brows were furrowed as if he was confused with what he had done, with how he felt about it, and before he could move too far away, Kyle put his hands on Alex’s waist, pulling him in for another kiss.  
“Mm,” Alex barely managed to get out before Kyle was devouring his lips. Kyle felt something in his chest soar as Alex soon melted into his hold, his arms coming around Kyle’s neck. Kyle broke away only for a second to draw breath before he took Alex’s lips in his again, moving him back. Kyle cleared the desk with one hand, letting everything fall to the floor as he pushed Alex against the metal.  
He wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist, about to lift him up when Alex put a hand on Kyle’s chest, stopping him. “Wait,” he breathed. “Wait, wait, wait.”  
Kyle blinked, releasing Alex immediately, his hand on his mouth. “I’m – I’m sorry, Alex.”  
“For what?” Alex panted, rubbing his face. “Letting me kiss you?”  
“No,” he shook his head, stepping closer again as he forced himself not to touch the airman. “Not that, never that.”  
Alex huffed a chuckle. After their breathing had calmed, he said, his voice quiet, “I want us to talk. Really talk. No more jumping into things.”  
And somehow, Kyle understood what he was saying. They had both been in relationships focused more on sex than anything else, and no one knew the heartbreak that came with that more than Alex did. Kyle now understood his fear. He didn’t think he could take it either if what had happened between the airman and Guerin happened between them.  
“Is that why you’ve been ignoring me?” Kyle asked. “You want to take things slow?”  
“I’ve been trying to figure things out,” Alex said. “I never thought I’d feel this way after Guerin, and after you told me that you… what you told me, all I could think about was kissing you.”  
“Yeah?” Kyle couldn’t help the smile at his lips, his body immediately drawn closer to Alex, but then Alex ran a hand through his hair, moving around the desk.  
“Yeah, but, Kyle… I can’t keep doing things like this. We can’t.”  
“We’re not running into anything, Alex,” Kyle said as he came up to Alex, his hands at his waist. “I know you. I know why you joined the military, I know that you’re an insomniac – you suck at hiding it, by the way, I’m a doctor, remember? – I know that you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met… I know that you love your beagle more than anybody, I know you’re allergic to perfume, I know you hate tomatoes on pizza—”  
“It’s weird,” Alex said, though his brows were furrowed and he was watching Kyle with an awed look in his eyes. “The sauce is already tomato, I don’t understand how you like it.”  
“I love it,” Kyle said, his hold on Alex’s waist tightening, “because it means I can take yours. And you know you can count on me to do it. We fit, Manes. Whether we’re busting down government conspiracies, or having lunch, we just fit.”  
Alex swallowed, his hands coming up slowly to hold Kyle’s face, his thumbs gently caressing the doctor’s cheeks. “Bravest person you’ve ever met,” he muttered. “What would someone like that do now?”  
Kyle brought his hands up and down Alex’s sides. “Whatever you want to do, Alex. Because you know me, too. And you know I’m not going anywhere.”  
“Whatever I want?” Alex whispered, and Kyle nodded, his lips brushing against Alex’s as the two moved closer to one another.  
“Whatever—”  
But Kyle never got to finish because right then, Alex closed the distance between them, kissing Kyle as if he needed him to breathe. Kyle wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist, his fingers digging into the airman’s skin, hard enough to bruise through his shirt, but Kyle could only think of holding him tighter. He was completely consumed in Alex’s scent, his warmth, his touch, and he didn’t think it would ever be enough. A part of him thought that after he’d confessed his feelings, they would lessen somehow, but they only grew stronger and stronger. He wanted every part of Alex, every cell, every smile, every word, every kiss. He wanted it all.  
They still needed to talk, and they definitely would, Kyle thought. Later.


	45. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is the only Manes left, but he remembers his brothers differently than Michael does.

Alex was sitting on the edge of his hospital bed when Michael came in to check on him. He stared off into space, nothing to show that the last twenty-four hours affected him save for his hands tight in his lap.

Michael sat down beside him, not knowing what to say. He remembered the look on Alex’s face as he stood amongst his fallen brothers, the three of them with their bodies limp on the ground, their eyes closed in an eternal sleep, their bodies soaked in their own blood. Alex had come in fighting with the rest of the Manes soldiers, and they’d died to protect him; their little brother. Alex had not shed one tear.

He’d kept glancing at his brothers as if he expected them to get up. Then he’d stared ahead like they had been mere strangers, and when they’d left the facility, when the danger was gone, Alex had collapsed. Michael had waited outside his hospital room, terrified out of his mind that Alex had been hit somewhere without his noticing, had suffered some kind of internal wound, but when Kyle had come out, his shoulders slumped and his eyes red, he’d only said that Alex was “really exhausted,” and walked off, unable to take any of their questions.

“I’ll go check on him,” Liz had said. Michael had almost forgotten that Kyle had known the Manes men, too. A few bad years of high school didn’t change that piece of connected history he and Alex had.

Michael wondered what words of comfort he could give the airman now, what he could do to take the pain away, to make Alex _forget_ what he had lost. Alex’s brothers had been monsters, had helped Jesse, but that didn’t erase what they had been to Alex. That didn’t erase the fact that Alex must’ve felt like the last of his kind now.

“You know, when we were kids,” Alex finally spoke, his voice quiet and hoarse from lack of use, “and dad would get angry, and he and mom would fight, Flint and Clark and Jason would take me to one of their rooms. Flint would give me his headphones, and Clark would play the guitar or make some stupid joke or tell me a story about his friends, and Jason would just sit next to me.”

He shrugged, his eyes turning glassy. “And I always knew what was going on downstairs, you know? But they tried so hard to keep me from it, so I just pretended I couldn’t hear it.” He looked to Michael, a tear falling down his cheek. “See? They weren’t always so bad. Once, they were my heroes. And that’s what I remember.” He swallowed. “And that’s what I lost.”

Michael could think of nothing else to do but nod.

Alex sniffed. “So please don’t say anything about them today. I think I’m just a little too broken to take it. Okay?” He sighed. “Okay?”

Michael clenched his jaw, his fingers itching to take Alex’s. Instead, he nodded silently again, and Alex closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. Michael stared at him as they sat in the quiet chill of the room. However poisoned the blood, it was what Alex had grown up with. It was all the family he’d known for most of his life. Michael didn’t think there was any forgetting that.


	46. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex helps Michael with his PTSD.

Alex didn’t sleep much. He’d spent a very, _very_ long time training himself to stay awake, to pick up work he knew would keep him up. He’d always been an amateur insomniac, ever since his mother had left. He’d force himself to stay awake until he couldn’t anymore, and he’d almost always regret it. Now, he’d just become a pro. At least, that was how he thought of it whenever memories of war, or fists pounding against his bedroom door – demanding to be let in – haunted his thoughts. (People thought Alex wasn’t good with jokes, but he had his moments.)

At first he’d used music to keep himself up. Then he incorporated books. Then computer work (and Project Shepherd had a way of keeping him up like nothing else did). Nowadays, he just watched Michael as he slept.

The tips of Michael’s curls turned to gold in the moonlight – _he’s always bathed in gold_ , Alex thought – his lashes curled against his rosy cheeks, his lips turned into a cute pout, his arm wrapped around Alex’s waist as if he were the greatest comfort. It felt like a dream, being here with Michael, and Alex often feared that if he closed his eyes, the cowboy would disappear. So he stayed awake, and he watched him. Even asleep, Michael saved Alex from the blood, and pain, and death of his memories. Even asleep, Michael was Alex’s hero.

“Alex,” Michael muttered, stirring in his state of unconsciousness.

Alex’s face fell. Sometimes this happened. Michael’s brows would furrow, he’d frown against his pillow, and his arm around Alex’s waist would tighten. He’d make a whimpering noise in the back of his throat, as he was doing now, and Alex would _know_ what was about to happen.

“The door,” Michael breathed. “They’re breaking down the door.”

“No one’s breaking down the door,” Alex whispered, hugging Michael to his chest, lips against his hair. “You’re safe here.”

Michael panted against Alex’s chest, his grip unbearably tight. Sometimes – not often, though it happened – Michael’s grip would hurt. Alex would wake up to bruises and cuts on his skin, and he’d have to hide them from the cowboy. Alex never minded it for himself, though it brought on a rage at those who had hurt Michael as a child, those who had dared lift a finger against him, those who had been meant to love and care for him, and instead had made his childhood a living hell.

“Doesn’t matter,” Michael would say every time Alex had asked for their names. “It was a long time ago.” And he’d smirk the way he always did, and Alex would see through it the way _he_ always did. Yet he’d know not to go any further, not to dig any deeper into a past Michael clearly wanted forgotten. He’d kiss Michael, and Michael would hold onto him, and any pain or fear or anger would be forgotten as they laid together.

“I’ll be better,” Michael said, scratching down Alex’s back, desperate to hold onto him. Alex winced, but he hugged Michael closer. “I’ll be better.”

“Shh,” Alex kissed his forehead. He’d made the mistake of waking Michael up in the middle of a nightmare once before, and had ended up accidentally thrown across the bunker, his back hitting the wall hard enough that he couldn’t find the breath to reassure a panicking Michael that “I’m okay, Guerin, _really_!”

He couldn’t take the guilt on Michael’s face then, nor the weeks the cowboy had spent avoiding him afterwards.

“If I hurt you like that again,” Michael said. “I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”

Alex pressed his lips harder against Michael’s forehead. He would endure.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Alex muttered against Michael’s skin, if only to reassure himself – for a single moment – that Michael was here, safe in his arms. “I love you so much, Michael. Go back to sleep. I’ll protect you.”

Slowly, and after Alex was sure his skin had been dug into, Michael’s breathing calmed, his body still and curled against Alex’s, his arm remained around Alex’s waist, though his hold no longer felt crushing.

Alex continued to run his fingers through the cowboy’s curls, and Michael moaned in his sleep, chasing his touch. Alex pressed another kiss to the man’s skin, inhaling his scent. With his forehead against Michael’s temple, Alex closed his eyes.

_Just for a minute_ , he thought, listening to the soft sound of Michael’s breathing, his heart hammering with every breath against his chest. _I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute._


	47. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael protects a drunk Alex when a guy at the bar hits on him.

Alex was drunk. That much was obvious. Still, Kyle thought, as drunks went, Alex was surprisingly steady. His eyes were closed, his elbow leaning on the bar, his cheek on his palm, and had it not been for his flushed cheeks, Kyle might’ve assumed he was just exhausted. Maybe he was.

Maybe that was also why, Kyle realized, Alex hadn’t noticed Michael sitting in the corner of the bar, staring at him since they’d walked in.

Kyle moved closer, and put an arm around Alex’s shoulders, shielding him from the cowboy’s view. His brother was tired, and though Kyle had no clue as to what was going on between him and Michael, he knew enough to know that Alex would not want any eyes on him, no matter whose they were.

He didn’t need to check, however, to know that Michael was now glaring at _him_.

“Hey,” he nudged. “You good?”

Alex merely hummed, leaning slightly against Kyle. Kyle huffed a chuckle, and rested his forehead against Alex’s temple. He briefly wondered how he ever could’ve walked away from Alex, how he ever could’ve left him behind. He tightened his hold on Alex’s shoulders, bringing him closer. He considered how different things might’ve been if he had been there with the airman from the beginning. Would Alex have known that being with Michael would only break his heart? Would his father have ruled him as long as he had? Would he ever have joined the military?

Kyle shook the idea from his head. Maybe it was better not to wander down that road.

“Well, if it isn’t the military man,” a man said as he took the other seat beside Alex. Kyle didn’t recognize him. He raised his brow at him, the way he eyed Alex as if he was a piece of candy, and he pulled his brother in closer. “Is this your boyfriend?”

Alex did not respond.

“Hey,” Kyle warned. “Not now, man.”

The man did not seem to hear Kyle as he leaned in toward Alex. “‘Cause you swing that way, don’t you? That’s what I heard.”

“Heard from where?”

“Does it matter?” he finally said with an indifferent glance at Kyle before he returned his attention to Alex.

“I’ve been watching you for a while, you know. A lot of us have.”

Kyle’s jaw clenched. “Come on, Alex, let’s go.”

“Whoa, _whoa_ ,” he stood up after them, blocking Alex’s path. “So soon? Listen,” he breathed, “if you really want a guy, I can take good care of you. Would you like that?”

_He doesn’t even smell like alcohol_ , Kyle realized. He was sober, trying to take advantage of Alex while he was drunk. Kyle felt a wave of nausea hit him, and he pulled Alex behind him.

“I think you should go,” he said quietly.

“I think you should mind your own business,” the stranger said. He was taller than Kyle, and with a force Kyle did not think he could possess, he shoved him out of the way, and reached for Alex.

“Hey, leave him alone!” Kyle yelled, but before he could reach them, the man was violently shoved backwards, hard enough to fall off his feet.

Alex looked neither surprised nor concerned as Michael came to stand in front of him, his glare settled on the man.

“ _Don’t_ touch him,” he growled.

He scrambled to his feet, his wide eyes on Michael.

“You – who the hell are you supposed to be?”

Kyle hurried to Alex’s side, and pulled his arm. “Come on, buddy,” he said, trying to stay light, though he doubted Alex was processing much of anything right now.

Alex pulled his arm free, staring at the back of Michael’s head. For a moment, Kyle wondered what he would do, then Alex stepped up to Michael, and put his forehead on the cowboy’s shoulder. Michael did not seem surprised, though Kyle saw him swallow with visible effort, as if it took everything he had not to turn around and pull Alex to him.

The airman then stepped away, and followed Kyle to the door. At the threshold, Kyle stopped, and looked to Michael. The stranger seemed to be bracing himself for a fight, but Michael paid him no mind. He was instead staring at Alex’s retreating figure. Alex tightened his grip fractionally on the door handle before stepping out. Kyle wondered if – despite his exhausted state – Alex actually had noticed Michael staring. Maybe that was why he’d been so unconcerned with the stranger. Maybe he had just known that Michael would be there to protect him.


	48. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex hits on Kyle while drunk.

“Why are you upside down?”

Kyle tilted his head at his friend. Of all the positions he’d expected to find Alex in, hanging upside down on his couch, staring at the TV as it played Hocus Pocus was not one of them.

“I was bored of the view,” Alex said.

Kyle blinked. “Are you drunk?”

“Am I forbidden to be?”

“Well, no, it’s just –”

“Good, then that’s what I am,” he said, and reached for the beer bottle on his other side. “Drunk.”

Kyle stared. “Did something happen?”

“Doesn’t something always?” he said, mocking Kyle’s questioning tone, though his expression revealed very little.

“Hey,” he pulled Alex upright. “Don’t drink upside down!”

“Let go of me,” Alex yanked his arm free. “I think I’ve earned an upside down drink by now. _Damn it_.”

Kyle sat beside him, watching as he took a gulp of his drink, the muscles in his neck clenching as he leaned his head back, his brown locks straight and _soft_ as they fell across his eyes and around his ears and the nape of his neck, his cheeks flushed red.

Kyle blinked himself out of his thoughts, and asked, “Was it Guerin? You were supposed to see him today, weren’t you?”

“Supposed to see him,” Alex muttered hazily. “Yup. Supposed to, but I _suppose_ he changed his mind.”

Kyle’s shoulders slumped. “Don’t tell me –”

“I waited for three hours,” Alex said.

Kyle sighed. “Damn it, Guerin. Didn’t you call?”

“Called, prayed,” Alex said with a sigh, and shut his eyes. “‘Can’t talk right now, Alex. Busy.’”

“What an idiot.”

“Aren’t I?”

“No, Alex, I’m talking about –”

“I know who you’re talking about,” Alex said. “I just don’t want to hear his name.” He huffed a chuckle. “And you just _know_ he’ll call later, and he won’t apologize, and I’ll be fine with it… because I’m always fine with it.”

He said the last part so quietly that Kyle almost misheard him. He should call Michael himself, he should guilt him for what he did, but he knew that once Alex was sober enough, he’d hate Kyle for doing it. And it killed Kyle. It killed him that Michael still meant that much to Alex, that Alex was still so protective of him.

Alex suddenly made a _pfft_ sound. “What if I’m busy, too, y’know?” He looked at Kyle, his eyes hazy. He seemed to have just realized that his friend was there. “Are you doing anything tonight?”

Kyle raised a brow. “Me? No, I’m always free for you. Why, you wanna hang out?”

And Alex grinned. It was a different kind of smile than Kyle was used to. He knew Joking Alex, Interested Alex, Friendly Alex, and Badass Alex. This was mischievous. This was an Alex that Kyle knew, if he wasn’t careful with, would be extremely dangerous.

“Sure,” he said quietly. With lightning speed, he tossed the beer bottle aside, and turned to his friend. He had one hand on the back of the couch, and the other on the cushion, pinning a startled Kyle beneath him. “Let’s hang out.”

“Er – I,” Kyle cleared his throat. “I’m a little impressed you’re so steady since you’re – you know – obviously drunk out of your _mind_.”

“And you’re worried about me,” Alex said with a deep chuckle that did nothing to help Kyle think. “Always you, Kyle. Always worried. And they say chivalry is dead.”

“I wish I was dead.”

Kyle tried to think of what would be appropriate to say in this situation, but could come up with very little. It was a hard enough time to concentrate when Alex’s body hovered so closely to his own, the airman’s collar hanging down, revealing his strong, hairy chest.

Kyle had his hands between him and Alex – the _only_ barrier, mind you – and he kept his face turned away, his eyes searching the room while trying to avoid Alex as he leaned in closer and closer.

“Uh – A-Alex, as your best friend, I should tell you –”

“You’re pretty sexy when you’re on your back,” Alex said in a voice barely over a whisper, his brows slightly furrowed. “I’ve never noticed that before.”

“Well, maybe that’s – uh – maybe that’s because lying together like this is reserved for boyfriends, which is – you know – i-it’s not – we’re not boyfriends. _So_ –”

“Do you wish we were?” Alex said. Kyle gasped as the airman’s breath fanned his ear. He caught Alex’s scent ( _he smells like maple syrup and wood_ , Kyle thought), and felt Alex’s chest against his closed fists.

What would he say? _No_? It was a lie, and Kyle couldn’t deny it. He wanted to be Alex’s. He wanted Alex to see Michael, and smile carelessly. He wanted Alex to be happy, and safe, and _his_. He wanted to kiss the airman whenever he wanted, and hold onto him, and run his hands up his shirt. He wanted to hear Alex’s breathy moans against his ear, and give him absolute pleasure like he’d never known before. He wanted to be the one to make Alex laugh, to break his walls down, to hug him whenever he acted like nothing bothered him. He wanted everything, and Alex _was_ everything.

“I…” he felt Alex’s lips against his cheek, and his eyes fluttered, his words locked in his throat.

“Do you want me to be your boyfriend?” He felt Alex’s fingers against his stubbled chin, then he felt the airman’s hand slip further down his throat, then his chest. He almost took Alex’s hand in his as it passed over his fingers, his fists uncurling under Alex’s touch. Then Alex’s hand settled on his stomach.

“I bet you’d love me better than Michael,” Alex said, and Kyle couldn’t help his next word.

“Yeah,” he breathed. Alex’s voice was so deep, so quiet, his fingers _so warm_. Kyle wanted to pull him in closer.

Alex pressed his nose to Kyle’s cheekbone and inhaled. “I bet you’d get me so hard.”

“I would,” Kyle slowly put his hands on Alex’s waist.

“I bet you’d make me _scream_.”

“ _Alex_ ,” Kyle panted, and felt Alex’s weight on him. He hugged him closer only to realize that Alex wasn’t kissing his cheek or neck, his hands weren’t going up Kyle’s shirt, and he wasn’t hard in his jeans. He had fallen asleep.

“Alex?” Kyle looked down at the airman, the way he curled against Kyle’s side, his hands balled into fists, his rosy lips turned to a pout. Kyle exhaled deeply. “Of course.”

Of course Alex wouldn’t sleep with him when he was in his right mind, _of course_ Alex had fallen asleep. Kyle mindlessly ran a hand up and down his friend’s back. “You’re an idiot, Valenti.”

Alex made a soft noise in the back of his throat, and nuzzled against Kyle’s neck before settling comfortably again, his breaths soft and warm against the doctor’s skin.

Kyle smiled sadly at his best friend. _Tomorrow_ , he decided, when they’d wake up and this whole night would feel like a bizarre dream, Kyle would deny any of it had happened. Alex would ask with hesitance and embarrassment (if he remembered or asked at all), and Kyle would look at him funny, and pretend not to understand. He’d spare Alex the humiliation.

“But tonight, Manes,” he muttered, pulling Alex in closer. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

And with one arm around Alex, the other pillowing his head, Kyle closed his eyes with nothing but Alex’s warmth to shield him from the cold.


	49. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malex fluff in front of the fireplace with Buffy.

“Alex?”

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. He was _exhausted_. He’d been looking through these Project Shepherd files on Alex’s kitchen counter for hours, but it felt like _years_. The sky had turned black (Michael was pretty sure it was past midnight), but the snow was still falling outside. His mug of hot coffee had turned cold, and Michael shivered. As he stared out the window, he called again.

“Alex.”

And again, no reply came. Alex had turned remarkably silent around noon, and it was only half an hour ago when his beagle, Buffy, had decided to bark incessantly before dragging him out of the kitchen. Michael was secretly glad for it. Alex looked like he would be sick if he saw his family name on one more record.

Michael shut his eyes and turned away from the files, unable to take another glance at them himself. It was brutal work, he realized, to involve yourself in Project Shepherd. He wondered if this was what Alex had sat through all those months that he and Kyle had spent working through the Manes’ documents. It made Michael sick. How had Alex not collapsed under the weight of it all?

“Alex, are you…” his words trailed off as he stepped into the living room. There Alex was, curled around Buffy in front of the fireplace. He had his arm around his beagle’s waist, his sweater having ridden up his own. The flames reflected a golden tinge on Alex’s smooth skin, and Michael found his eyes lingering there longer than he knew he was allowed. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and came up to Alex, taking a seat behind him, his back against a table leg. He stared at Alex’s form, his dark hair curled around his ears and the nape of his neck, his shoulders rising and falling with each soft breath.

Michael huffed a chuckle. “So this is where you were.”

At his words, Buffy suddenly looked up at him, her eyes boring into his.

Michael raised a brow, and tried not to blush as if the dog had heard his thoughts. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

Buffy stared a moment, then set her head down, and went back to sleep with her paw against Alex’s cheek. Michael knew it was ridiculous, but he envied her. She had the freedom to curl up beside Alex, to touch his jaw without any fears or repercussions. On nights like this, when sweaters and hot drinks just weren’t warm enough, all Michael wanted to do was hold Alex. He remembered dark winter days when Alex had still been away at war, and the fear of what had happened to him, whether or not he was still alive, made the hours _unbearable_. In that time, he had wanted nothing more than to know where Alex was, that he was safe.

Now, Michael wanted to reach out and touch him. So he did.

His fingers were slow and hesitant, and he found himself glancing more at Buffy than he did at Alex, afraid she would wake up again, and bark, and alert Alex to what the cowboy was doing.

When his fingers touched Alex’s exposed skin, he closed his eyes, the warmth from that small bit of contact spreading throughout his entire body. He sighed deeply.

“Damn it,” he breathed. He’d hoped it would be enough, but he felt unable to pull away. “Just this once,” he muttered. Just this once, he wanted to touch Alex as freely as if they were together, like they were supposed to be. Just this once, he wanted to have Alex curled against _him_. Just this once, he wanted to know that the airman was in his arms, that he was protected.

Slowly, Michael moved to lie behind Alex, bringing an arm around his waist. He held his breath as Alex’s back fit perfectly against his chest, as Alex stirred slightly but otherwise seemed comfortable and content.

Michael pressed his nose to the back of Alex’s head, inhaling his scent. Suddenly, all the misery of Project Shepherd faded away, and all that was left was Alex and Michael in front of the fireplace together.

Buffy peeked her eyes open at Michael, and Michael was unable to help but smile, ruffling her fur. “Yeah, you, too.”

Buffy seemed satisfied with that, and closed her eyes. Michael closed his as well, and opened them again when he felt Alex’s hand come up to cover his own on his waist. Alex patted his hand gently, as if he was the one protecting _Michael_ , and kept it there.

Michael’s eyes burned, and he pressed a soft kiss to the nape of Alex’s neck, the storm outside going on, unnoticed.


	50. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was also a prompt, I believe, that basically went, "You can't die, you owe me money."

Michael woke to the howling winds outside his airstream. The sheets were pulled up to his shoulders, the pillow beneath his head warm and soft, the trailer trembled slightly in the dust storm – it was all familiar, and had Michael not felt a searing pain surging throughout his body when he’d tried to move, he might’ve thought that he’d just fallen asleep. His skin was healed, he knew, there was no need for bandages, and yet he could feel his insides burning.

“Be careful,” a voice said. “You’re still recovering.”

Michael didn’t need to look to know who it was. His head fell back onto his pillow, and he stared up at the ceiling.

“I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Yes, you did.”

Michael finally looked over to Alex. The airman had his arms crossed, knees pulled up to his chest as he sat against the wall. When he stood, Michael noticed him wince. _He’s been here a while_ , he realized.

“Fine,” Michael said, his voice hoarse from lack of use. “I did.”

Alex stretched his arms over his head, and Michael’s eyes fell to the sliver of exposed skin as his shirt rode up. Michael expected him to find some excuse to leave, to say that he’d been waiting long enough and wanted to go home now, to call Max and tell him that his brother was awake. Alex, instead, surprised him by sitting beside his legs on the bed.

“Do you remember what happened?”

Michael rubbed his temples. “I remember the ground shaking. I remember seeing a lot of white. I…” and his eyes closed, realization dawning. “I lost control.”

“Mm,” Alex’s eyes were searching his face, probably still wary of him, and Michael realized with a crushing ache in his chest that he’d frightened the airman.

Michael looked away, unable to meet his eyes. If only for a moment, a single second, Alex had been afraid of him. His hands trembled.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out.

“You should be,” Alex’s voice was calm, but his eyes flashed with a ferocity that always tugged at Michael’s heart. “You almost died.”

Michael looked at him, startled. “ _That’s_ what’s bothering you?”

Alex raised his chin defiantly. “If it was the other way around –”

“It wasn’t.”

“But _if_ it was –”

“Don’t talk like that!” he snapped. “Don’t even entertain the idea, Alex.”

They were left in silence for the next few minutes, neither of them able to completely meet the other’s gaze.

“If it was,” Alex quietly insisted, “wouldn’t it have scared you? Wouldn’t you have wanted to… sit with me until I’d woken up?”

And the hope in his voice, the doubt – it _crushed_ Michael. Alex wasn’t sure Michael would’ve been as worried, as torn up, if it had been _him_ with his muscles aching and his heart burning.

Michael shook his head against the pillow. “If anything had happened to you, Alex… it would’ve killed me.” He shut his eyes. “But I’m not you. You’re _good_ , and I’m…” he trailed off with a sigh. “You should’ve let me die.”

After a moment, Alex leaned back against Michael’s legs, his fingers interlaced over his stomach as he stared at the ceiling. “I would’ve, but you owe me money.”

Michael’s brows furrowed. “No, I don’t –” he’d barely managed to say before a roll of bills was flung at his face. “What the –”

“Now you do,” Alex said as casually as if he’d been talking about the weather. “So you can’t die.”

Michael raised his brow at the dollar bill on his chest, and huffed a chuckle despite himself. Alex’s weight on his legs, oddly enough, did not hurt, but kept him warm and cozy. He had half a mind to ask Alex to crawl under the sheets with him, to curl up against the airman and rest his head on his chest.

“You like me that much?” he asked, and Alex didn’t answer. Michael thought that was fine, he didn’t need to hear it anyway. Alex’s comforting weight, reminding Michael that the airman was there, and worried about him, was more than enough for now.


	51. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malex fluff and smut.

The rising sun-bathed the desert in gold and pink hues, the sky still glittering with stars. Michael smiled at the light peeking through his window curtains, splaying across his airstream and the man curled against him.

His grin widened as Alex Manes nuzzled against his hairy chest, and wrapped his arms around the cowboy’s waist, bringing them closer together. Michael hugged Alex’s shoulders, pressing his lips to the airman’s hair, then his forehead, then each of his eyes.

“Mm,” Alex scrunched his nose, and Michael leaned down to kiss that, too.

Michael, in that moment, couldn’t help but remember the days that he’d been too afraid to kiss Alex in the morning, terrified that the airman would wake up, realize he’d slept over, and rush to leave. Even as Michael had held Alex in his arms (never as tightly as he had wanted), losing him was always a threat, looming over Michael’s head and disrupting any peace he had. For a moment, it had felt like he would never be allowed to touch Alex again, let alone hold him.

But Michael closed his eyes. _Those days are over_ , he had to remind himself. Gone were the moments that Michael had to worry, gone were the moments he and Alex suffered, gone was the jealousy, the longing, the torment. It was just him and Alex now, as he had always wanted. Him and _his_ Alex.

And maybe it was just to prove to himself that he could, or maybe it was because he could think of nothing else he wanted to do more, but Michael leaned down, and kissed Alex’s lips. It was not gentle or light, as he knew Alex might’ve expected so early in the morning, but fierce and passionate. Michael tilted his head to deepen the kiss, and even in his weariness, Alex moaned as Michael devoured his lips.

“Guerin,” Alex breathed when they’d both needed to pull back for air. “ _Wow_ , what – what are you doing?”

“I love you,” Michael blurted, and Alex’s eyes widened fractionally. They’d both made the confession at least once before, but never so suddenly, so matter-of-factly, as if it was obvious that Michael loved Alex, that he was _made_ to fit perfectly against the airman.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” Michael said in one, deep sigh, and Alex burst into giggles, holding Michael’s face in his hands.

“I love you, too, Guerin,” he said, and Michael _loved_ that. He loved how easily Alex could say it back, how his voice turned softer and his eyes shined brighter when the words left his lips, as if they lit him up from the inside.

Michael bit his lower lip, and moved to hover over Alex, the airman’s legs on either side of him, wide and welcoming. “Kiss me, Alex.”

Alex tried to squirm away. “No, we can’t do this the second we wake up, or we won’t get anything else done!”

His voice bubbled with laughter, and Michael found he wanted to taste that laugh. “Who cares?” he said, and pinned Alex’s wrists to the mattress. The way his muscles clenched, the hair on his body, the rise and fall of his chest as he eyed Michael with weakening resolve made Michael want to bury himself in Alex, to drown in this dreamlike peace, and never wake up.

Michael leaned in, and whispered, “ _Kiss me, Private_.”

And Alex’s eyes fell shut as his mouth captured Michael’s in a long, sensual kiss, slower and more of a desire to give in to each other than any of their past kisses had ever been.

Michael’s hands came down to Alex’s hips, bringing him closer, closer, _closer_ until there was no space left between their two naked bodies, and Alex’s fingers dug into Michael’s hair, keeping him close enough to kiss.

As the sun continued to rise outside the window, it brought more and more light into the room. The moments of painful endings were over, Michael thought. It was a new day.


	52. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex sings La Vie en Rose when he's tired, and Michael loves it.

Alex sang when he was exhausted. Michael didn’t think the airman knew this about himself, but there were times in the bunker when they had been looking over files and computer coding and alien symbols all day, and around the four day mark, Alex would start singing, and Michael would know he’d hit his limit, and needed rest.

Even now, Michael looked up from his files, unable to help the grin forming at his lips when he heard Alex singing La Vie en Rose under his breath.

_“When you press me to your heart, I’m in a world apart, a world where roses bloom.”_

Michael cleared his throat once, twice, almost regretting it when Alex’s singing stopped.

“Hm?” Alex hummed, blinking with wide eyes over his shoulder. Michael tried to contain his laugh. He hated how cute Alex could be without even trying.

“You – uh – think maybe you should call it a night, Private?”

Alex frowned. “Why?”

“ _Why_? You’re singing again, Alex.”

Alex listened as if expecting to hear his own voice, and shrugged a shoulder. “No one’s singing, Guerin.”

“Alex,” Michael chuckled, “you were _just_ singing some French song. You’re exhausted.”

Alex returned to his work. “I’m fine.”

“Private…” Michael tried, but the airman was concentrated on his work. He sighed, and returned to his files. About an hour later, he heard faint, soft singing echoing in the bunker, and he quietly laughed into his papers.

He stood, and turned Alex’s chair so that the airman was suddenly facing him. Alex looked startled. The fact that he hadn’t been prepared for it was more than enough proof that he needed to rest.

Michael placed both his hands on the armrests, caging Alex in. “You’re singing again.”

Alex blinked, as if just realizing Michael had spoken to him, and said, “Are you sure you’re not imagining this? I don’t sing when I’m tired.”

“Yes, you do.”

Alex sighed and leaned back in his chair, holding Michael’s gaze. Or _trying_ to, at least. His eyes kept drifting over Michael’s shoulder. Michael resisted the urge to kiss him.

_Damn. He’s_ too _cute._ Michael was sure that would be a bigger problem later.

“I’ll leave after I’m done with this,” he finally said.

“Alex, no.”

“I’m on the last few pages.”

“They can wait till tomorrow.”

“ _Guerin_ –”

“Fine,” Michael huffed. “You forced my hand.”

“What do you – _ah_!” Alex yelped as he suddenly started levitating out of his chair. “Guerin, put me down!”

“Oh, I will,” Michael said as he settled in Alex’s chair. He spread his arms out, letting Alex levitate back down onto his lap. He held a wide-eyed Alex close to his chest, his hand rubbing soothing circles into his back.

Alex was studiously avoiding his gaze, his jaw clenched, his cheeks red. “Guerin, I _swear_ –”

“Finish your work,” Michael said, completely unthreatened. “I’ll just be here, waiting.”

Alex pursed his lips. “This is pathetic.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Michael said with a grin. “I feel pretty comfortable. Don’t you?”

“This isn’t going to work.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Michael said as he pressed harder into Alex’s back, making him gasp.

“S-seriously,” his eyes fluttered. “I – I have to focus.”

Michael nuzzled his neck, inhaling his scent. “So focus,” he breathed.

And to Alex’s credit, he did try, even as Michael pulled him in deeper to his chest and began humming La Vie en Rose himself.

“Shh.”

Michael’s grin widened. “What? I’m just humming.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but Michael could see him nodding off already.

“Getting sleepy?”

“No,” Alex muttered, even as Michael guided the airman’s head to rest on his shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut. “Stop that. I’m not tired.”

“Too bad,” Michael quietly said, his lips against Alex’s hair. “I like hearing you sing.”


	53. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is tired of being blamed for his family.

Alex’s eyes were burning. He felt like it had been years since he’d been staring at his computer screen in the bunker, deciphering symbols and coding that left him with more and more questions. Every now and then, he heard Michael mutter a curse before he threw a file against the wall. At first, Alex had looked to him with concern, but then he’d seen the _Manes_ name printed on each fallen paper, and had learned to keep his gaze ahead, whatever went on behind him.

It was a quiet Friday night, however, went Michael asked for his attention. If Alex had known then what would come of it, he never would have turned around.

“ _‘Tobias Manes, November 23 rd, 1975 log,’_” Michael read. “ _‘Test subject is reacting to drug with anxiety, depression, and a decrease in brain activity. The skin infection has spread. Suspected: Skin cancer. No cohesive blood results.’_ ” He tossed the file onto the table, glaring at it with disgust. “There are about fifty of those.”

Alex swallowed, and turned back to his computer, though he could no longer focus on the words in front of him. His heart hammered in his chest. _Please don’t look at me_ , he silently begged. _Please, please,_ please _, don’t look at me._

“Golly gee, Private,” Michael said, and Alex shut his eyes. “Your family gets better and better.”

Alex’s thumb brushed the keyboard mindlessly. _Your family._ “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

A moment of silence passed, and Alex thought that maybe Michael had returned to his work, maybe he’d felt bad and didn’t want to push it. Maybe Alex should reassure him it was okay, that he hadn’t been hurt by it. It’d be a lie, but Michael would feel better.

“ _‘Jackelyn Manes, April 5 th, 1982 log_,” Michael suddenly started up again, and Alex slowly turned to look at him. “ _‘Test subject has stopped healing. Suspected: Immune system failure. No cohesive blood results.’_ ” He picked up another paper. “ _‘Harold Manes_ –”

“Guerin –”

“ _‘June 22 nd, 1994 log_ –”

“Please –”

“ _‘Test subject has become legally blind. Ability to hear is also declining. No. Cohesive. Blood results.’_ ”

Alex turned away, yet he could feel Michael’s eyes burning into the back of his head.

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Private?”

Alex clenched his jaw, unwilling to answer. He couldn’t remember a time Michael spoke to him with such _venom_. His eyes burned hotter, and he pressed the bottoms of his palms into them.

“ _Manes, Manes, Manes_ ,” Michael muttered, and Alex heard papers being shuffled around. “My god, they’re everywhere.”

“They were monsters,” Alex agreed. “But we’re going to fix all of that.”

That was the wrong thing to say. At his words, Michael scoffed.

“ _Fix_ it? How? They’re all dead, Private. Got a drug that’ll fix that?”

Alex sighed. He stood, and leaned against the console, his arms crossed. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is being imprisoned your entire life.”

“Well, I didn’t imprison anyone, did I?”

“I know that.”

“You sure?” he said, unable to help the edge in his voice.

Michael said nothing.

Alex swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I’m just trying to help, Guerin.”

Michael pursed his lips and nodded, his eyes on the open files in front of him, his finger tapping the table. “Mm hm.”

“You know that, don’t you?”

Michael closed his eyes. “ _Yes_ , Alex, I know.”

Alex moved to the table, and started clearing the papers.

“What’re you doing, _stop_ , I’m reading those!”

“You’ve read enough,” Alex said. “I’ll look at these, you can work on Jim’s writings.”

“Alex,” Michael grabbed at the papers. “Stop it, I can handle looking at this stuff!”

“Well, I can’t!” he snapped. “And I don’t feel like being glared at every time you see my name. If you can’t be objective, then –”

“ _Objective_? They’re my family, Alex, what do you expect me to do?”

“Yeah, well,” Alex took the pages away, and all but threw them onto his computer console. “As you so kindly pointed out, the Manes are _my_ family. But here I am, trying to take them all down, for _you_.”

Michael shrugged. “So what? If it wasn’t for me, you’d let them get away with all of this?”

Alex huffed a hysterical chuckle, his brows furrowed. “What more do I have to do to prove that I’m _not_ my family?” Michael said nothing. “What else do you want from me? _Tell me_!” He stepped closer, and, to his shock, Michael flinched and stepped back.

Alex felt as if he’d been stabbed, and the expression on his face must’ve shown it because Michael’s eyes widened as if he himself couldn’t believe what he had just done.

“Alex, I,” he stepped towards him, but this time it was Alex who couldn’t bear him near. “I’m sorry, I didn’t – I didn’t mean to –”

“It’ll never be enough, will it?” Alex muttered, even as Michael came into his space, his hands hovering around Alex’s waist, as if not knowing whether or not he was allowed to touch.

“I’m sorry, Private, I’m so sorry, I – I was being stupid,” and he risked holding Alex’s face in his hands, his thumbs brushing Alex’s cheeks. “Of course none of this is your fault, I was just angry, and –”

“Don’t touch me,” Alex pulled away, and turned his back to Michael. Immediately, he felt the cowboy against him, his hands on Alex’s waist, his head on Alex’s shoulder. Alex’s fists trembled. He wanted more than anything to turn around and let Michael hold him, but the image of Michael’s terrified face – even for that split second – was too fresh in his mind. It was too much.

_Nothing I do – no matter how hard I fight – will ever be enough._

“Alex, I don’t think of you like that, I _swear_. Come on, Private. _Please_ look at me.”

Alex sniffed. “I think you should call it a night, Guerin.”

“A-Alex –”

“ _Go home_.”

“ _No_!”

“Fine,” Alex brushed past him. “I’ll leave.”

“Alex! Wait,” he grabbed Alex’s arm. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Home,” Alex said, and slammed the bunker door behind him.

He stood against it a moment, taking in the chilly November air. As Alex got into his car and drove to his cabin where he knew he was better off alone, a tear slid down his cheek, and Alex thought he really should’ve kept his gaze ahead.


	54. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forest sings for Alex, and Michael gets jealous.

Michael had been sitting at Alex’s side for the past hour, and in that entire hour, Alex had looked to his drink, then the bar, then the door, then his drink again. But never once did he look at Michael.

“You okay?” he finally asked as Alex downed the rest of his glass.

Alex hummed, his eyes shut as if he’d hoped Michael would’ve been gone by now. Alex had stopped looking flustered at Michael’s concern a while ago, and it nearly killed the cowboy every time. When Alex had started seeming more shocked than anything else, Michael thought there would be nothing worse; to have the man he loved more than he loved _breathing_ actually look surprised that Michael was worried about him, that he _could_ worry about him.

Now, Alex just looked annoyed or fed up, as if he genuinely believed that Michael didn’t really care, and was only asking as a way of keeping up appearances, all so Alex would continue slaving away on Project Shepherd, helping them whenever they needed it. But how could Michael explain that he believed with everything he had that Alex would always come to his rescue no matter what he did?

Michael couldn’t help but scoot a little closer on his stool, his eyes on Alex. He _missed_ the airman. He wanted more than anything to pull Alex to him, drag them both into an alley, and kiss him senseless. He wanted to feel Alex’s breaths against his ear, to run his tongue against Alex’s jaw, to _taste_ his heartbeat racing in his chest.

But then the crowd in the bar cheered, and Michael was woken from his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder in annoyance as a mysterious man with a white cowboy hat was patted on the back for his incredible voice. It was Open Mic night in the Wild Pony, and while – at one point – Michael had only cared if there was a pretty girl with a microphone, one he could’ve later bought a drink, he now couldn’t have cared less either way, not unless it was Alex under the spotlight. But Alex didn’t sing anymore. Alex didn’t want Michael’s eyes on him.

“Hey, Private,” he tried again, his voice quieter as the singer in the back announced he was singing a song for “the most important person in my life.” Michael waited until he was finished with his declarations (hardly containing his eye rolls), and when the music started, he inched closer to Alex. “Alex…”

_“She always said if something ever_

_Happened to me she would never_

_Fall in love again._

_Uh – what a waste.”_

Michael tried Alex’s name again, but as the song went on, Alex’s brows furrowed as if remembering something important. He slowly looked over his shoulder at the man singing.

_“We always said we’d go together,_

_But if I’m just half of her forever,_

_This goes out to whoever_

_Takes my place.”_

Michael followed Alex’s gaze, and as the light shined behind the singer, illuminating him and his ridiculous hat with white, Michael realized that he was staring right at Alex. He had dark brown hair under his hat, curling below his ears, his eyes dark as well.

_“She don't give 2 cents about money_

_Likes a little coffee in her honey_

_Let her sleep late as she wants_

_Home is her favorite restaurant.”_

Alex huffed an incredulous chuckle. He nearly stumbled as he moved to his feet, and would’ve fallen had Michael not caught his arm and steadied him. Alex said nothing as he kept his eyes on the singer, making his way over to him.

_“Don't you dare come home if you're hammered,_

_Better watch your mouth and your grammar_ _._

_She loves babies, hates glitter_ _,_

_You better shave before you kiss her_ _,_

_And if she ever misses me, please, don't let her.”_

“Wait, Alex,” Michael tried, reaching for the airman, but it was as if he’d been transported to a different world, one of secret meetings with handsome friends, forbidden touches and kisses and _more_ than kisses, coded songs that meant more to one another than they would to anyone else. Including Michael.

 _“The most important person in my life,”_ Michael remembered, and then the look on Alex’s face as if he’d known the song was meant for him. _This guy is trying to serenade Alex._

And the crowd seemed to sense it, whether or not they knew how deep the relationship between these two men went. They knew there was a connection there. Michael guessed this guy was military, judging by the way he stood, his shoulders stiff and his back straight just like Alex’s always were, a habit Michael didn’t think military men would ever be able to kick.

_“Make her feel better,_

_Say something funny,_

_Say something ‘bout the weather._

_Tell her wherever I am,_

_I’m good, and if she thinkin’ she could love again,_

_She should… understood?”_

Alex grinned – the first genuine smile Michael had seen in _months_ – and Michael was overcome with an overwhelming urge to grab Alex’s arm, and pull him out of the bar. He didn’t know what was happening, or why, or who that man was, but Michael hated the way Alex’s eyes glittered as they fell on him, he hated the mix of shock and fondness and appreciation in Alex’s expression, as if this stranger was his missing half and had finally come back to him.

“ _Alex_ ,” he tried again, though the name was barely audible to his own ears. The crowd seemed to part for Alex, allowing him in, allowing him _closer_. Michael clenched his fists at his side.

The man singing on stage ( _Forest_ , he heard some of the more infatuated women call him) smiled as Alex came near, as if relieved to have finally gotten the airman’s attention. When the song finished, the crowd cheered, but Alex and Forest were only staring at each other.

Michael stepped forward, eager to take Alex from this place – with an excuse, _any_ excuse – and _go_. Great, Forest had had his fun singing, but Alex was _his_ , and Michael wasn’t planning on giving him up.

Then Alex did something Michael had never seen him do. He all but jumped into Forest’s hold, his arms wrapped around Forest’s shoulders as Forest lifted him slightly off the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist. The stranger – a stranger to _Michael_ , Michael realized with a heavy heart, yet someone clearly valuable to Alex – smiled as if his world was complete. He had Alex.

Michael clenched his jaw. It was stupid. By tomorrow, this guy could be gone, and that song would’ve meant nothing. As Michael left the bar, he couldn’t help but take one last glance at Alex.

 _This’ll blow over_ , Michael thought. Whoever this Forest guy was, he would not be taking Alex away. He was a stranger, someone passing through, nothing more. Michael found himself gripping the steering wheel tightly as he drove back to his airstream.

He didn’t know why he was so worried. Whoever Forest was, he wasn’t staying.


	55. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds Alex's plane trip to New York on his computer.

Michael had been staying at Alex’s cabin for the past three days, and in that time, Alex had done his best to steer clear of the cowboy. And Michael could tell. Michael had thought that when Alex had offered him his guest bedroom after his airstream was destroyed in an attack, he’d done it in an attempt for the two of them to get closer, and Michael had been prepared to take advantage of that, but after the first couple of hours of his stay, he realized that Alex really had just offered to be nice. He wanted Michael to be sleeping and eating comfortably; that was all. And it sucked.

There were moments, however, small ones when Michael would walk in on Alex cooking with his headphones on, or too busy playing with Buffy to notice anyone there when the cowboy would just lean against the wall and watch him. Sometimes it felt like enough for the moment, and sometimes, Michael had to fight against every fiber in his body to keep himself from caging Alex against a wall and kissing him senseless, touching every _single_ part of him.

Like tonight, as Michael stepped into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, and found Alex asleep with his head on his arms on the counter, his computer open in front of him, casting him into a bright light in the midst of all the darkness.

Michael’s steps slowed, and he wondered if Alex would hear him coming and sit up, but the airman must’ve been more exhausted than Michael realized because no matter how close he came, Alex did not wake. He took the chance, and quietly yet swiftly slid onto the stool beside him, leaning his elbow on the table as he stared at Alex. A small smile tugged at his lips, and he reached out, moving Alex’s bangs from his eyes. He carefully dragged a thumb along Alex’s lower lip, and watched as Alex’s lips turned to a cute pout in his sleep. His long lashes curled against his rosy cheeks, and he made a sighing noise in the back of his throat that had Michael’s heart thrashing in his chest.

He leaned into Alex, his lips hovering above the airman’s cheek as he inhaled his scent. He couldn’t believe how he craved Alex, how badly he yearned for him, how badly he wanted to be next to him _all the time_. He thought everything would be alright if he could stay with Alex for the rest of his life. If they could be together, their attention never turned to anyone else again. It would just be them.

Then Michael’s eyes caught sight of Alex’s computer screen, and confusion hit for a split second before dread took over. There it was, a list of one-way flights to New York from Roswell New Mexico under Alex’s name. Michael looked to Alex, then the screen again. It didn’t look like any reservations had been made, but the ticket prices glared at him as if taunting his foolishness. Alex was going to leave.

Michael swallowed and before he realized what he was doing, his fingers curled into Alex’s sweater, holding on so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Alex was leaving. Alex was trying to leave.

Michael pursed his lips, his jaw clenched tightly. The computer started to smoke, and the screen suddenly glitched and turned off. It was stupid, and impulsive, and Michael would probably owe Alex a new computer (if the airman ever found out what actually happened to it), but Michael couldn’t help it. It would keep Alex from looking at flights for another day or two, it would keep him here while Michael tried to figure out how to stop him.

Michael pillowed his head on his arm, though his grip on Alex’s sweater never loosened. It was just them now. Just them.


	56. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael feels self-conscious about gaining weight, but Alex only wants him.

The first time, Alex had ignored it. The second, he’d been hesitant, but he’d let it go. The third, he knew something was wrong.

He felt Michael’s hands stretch from the nape of his neck into his hair, tugging on the strands, and he moaned.

“ _Alex_ ,” Michael breathed against his lips, and before Alex could help it, he made a whimpering sound, and pulled Michael against him, their kisses open-mouthed and _wet_.

“Touch me, Guerin,” Alex whispered, and Michael took that as all the permission he’d needed to run his hands up Alex’s shirt, reaching his fingers through Alex’s chest hair.

“I love you,” Michael said, over and over, in between kisses. “I love you so much, baby.”

“Michael,” Alex wrapped his arms around Michael’s shoulders, pulling him in even as Michael started to unbutton his shirt, and push it off. Alex closed his eyes as Michael ran his hands up his body. “Take your clothes off. Come on,” he said, tugging at the hem of Michael’s shirt, but before Alex could touch his skin, Michael was suddenly out of his hold, and off the couch.

“Uh, I, sorry,” Michael shook his head, “I’m not really in the mood tonight.”

“But you were just –”

“Yeah, but,” his eyes fell to Alex’s chest, his stomach, and snapped back up to his face. “Why don’t, uh, why don’t we do something else? L-like watch a movie? We don’t really watch a lot of movies together.”

Alex could feel the resignation taking over. He could only nod, his lips only able to muster half a smile as a heavy weight settled in his chest. He suddenly felt inappropriately naked, something he never thought he’d feel around the man he loved, yet it was all he’d been able to feel lately.

Michael was looking through the movies when Alex couldn’t help himself, and asked, “Is it me?”

“Hm?” Michael raised a brow. “Is what you?”

“Is… is it _me_?” he asked again, and after a moment, as if he hadn’t expected Alex to ask such a thing at all, Michael’s brows furrowed.

“ _What_?”

“Come on, Guerin,” he said. “It’s been a week, I know something’s wrong.”

Michael stood straight. “And you think that something is you?”

“You can tell me,” Alex said, his voice quieter than he had wanted it to be. “If you’re not,” he swallowed, “if you’re not attracted to me anymore –”

Alex’s words were cut short when Michael crashed their lips together, all but straddling Alex on the couch. Alex gasped and wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist to keep them both steady, and Michael took advantage and pushed his tongue into Alex’s mouth.

When Michael pulled back, the two were panting.

“Don’t _ever_ ,” Michael warned, “say that again.”

Alex frowned and he shook his head, though his hands on Michael stayed, keeping him in place. “Then what is it? Why don’t you want to sleep with me anymore?”

Michael’s gaze faltered, and his eyes fell to Alex’s lips as his thumbs caressed the airman’s cheeks. “I _want_ to. I want _you_ , more than anything, but I… I’m… I’m not, um… I mean, I – I’ve _gannedhmet_ ,” he finished with a mumble so low, Alex couldn’t hear him.

“You’ve what?”

“I,” Michael shook his head, his eyes closed. “I’ve… _gannedhmet_.”

“ _What_?”

“I’ve,” Michael pressed his cheek to Alex’s, and said in a quiet groan, “I’ve gained weight.”

Alex’s shoulders slumped. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

Michael pulled back, but Alex held onto him, keeping him close. “Well, ever since you made me quit drinking –”

“You’re welcome –”

“And started making me dinner every night –”

“Which I don’t regret –”

“The abs are,” he hid his face in the crook of Alex’s neck, “they’re gone.”

Alex frowned, and as if he needed the proof, he put his hands up Michael’s shirt, feeling his hairy chest and stomach that he hadn’t felt in _days_ , and what he thought of was not the muffin top his boyfriend had gained, or the abs that were apparently lost forever because Michael was finally having some real food – it was the feeling of Michael’s skin against his own, the feeling of his chest hair against Alex’s fingers, the feeling of his breath against Alex’s neck.

“Guerin,” Alex said, running his hands over whatever he could reach of Michael under his shirt; his chest, his stomach, his shoulders, his sides. “Let me make this simple. I have been horny as hell for a week, and there’s nothing I want more right now than for you to pound me into this couch, so for the sake of both of our sanities, can you _please_ do that?”

Michael’s gaze fell to Alex’s lips, his pupils turned so dark that his eyes were nearly black, and Alex realized that Michael may have been just as miserable after so long a time of not being able to touch one another.

Then, as Alex pushed Michael’s shirt up and over his head, his expression faltered. “Y-you sure you’re not –”

“Michael, there is _no_ universe where you’re not the sexiest man alive,” Alex said, then licked a stripe along Michael’s nipple, making the cowboy gasp. “Now you can touch me, or I can go touch myself.”

It was as if Alex’s words had tossed fuel into the fire. Michael’s expression had turned shocked for a split second before he suddenly grabbed Alex’s thighs, and pulled their hips together, grinding their clothed cocks against one another. Alex was on his back, and while Michael tried to hover, to keep a distance, Alex was fed up. It had been days since he’d felt the cowboy’s body against his, and he wanted to feel it _now_. He wrapped one arm around Michael’s shoulders, the other around his waist, and pulled him down, kissing him senseless.

He felt Michael’s hairy skin grind against his own, damp as Michael panted against his lips, and strong as Michael thrusted in deeply. His nails dug into Michael’s skin, and he reveled in Michael hissing into his ear, Michael’s tongue on his cheek, Michael’s lips against his own.

“Damn, I missed you,” Alex whispered against his lips when they were lying together on the couch, Alex curled against Michael, his fingers playing with the trail of hair leading down from Michael’s bellybutton to below the blanket at their hips.

“Missed _me_?” Michael scoffed, rubbing a hand down Alex’s back. “You have any idea how many showers I’ve taken this week? I’m not that clean, Alex, _no one_ is.”

Alex huffed a chuckle, and kissed Michael’s chest. “How could you ever think I wouldn’t be attracted to you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“You didn’t want to have sex,” Alex said defensively. “You never not want to have sex.”

But Michael wasn’t laughing. His serious gaze caught Alex’s own eyes, and his fingers dug into Alex’s back as he said, “I’m sorry.”

Alex blinked. “For what?”

“You blamed yourself,” he said. “All because I couldn’t just talk to you.”

Alex sighed, cupping Michael’s cheek, his heart melting in his chest as his big tough cowboy’s eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned into Alex’s touch. “Why was it so hard to tell me?”

“Because,” Michael searched Alex’s face with furrowed brows, as if he was just considering the reason now. “Because I want to be perfect for you.”

And Alex wondered in that moment if Michael had lost his mind. How could his cowboy have missed the obvious? How could he have _missed_ what Alex had _known_ the second he’d met him?

“But,” Alex huffed, not knowing whether to chuckle with exasperation or just lightly slap his boyfriend’s chest, “you’re better than perfect. You’ve always been better.”


	57. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle knows Alex needs rest, but Michael doesn't want Alex to go anywhere with the doctor.

Kyle remembered Alex when they were younger; the way he’d started coming to school with his arm held a little too close to his side as if it pained him to move it any further; the way he’d covered the entire lower half of his face with large scarfs in the winter, and lose his mind if anyone tried to pull it down; the way he’d worn his beanie so low it covered one eye for weeks at a time. Kyle didn’t like to remember it often, but he’d learned to recognize Alex losing strength long ago. He’d learned to see his friend’s spirit dimming more and more until there was nothing left but a wall, and a lot of anger left to keep people away.

And maybe Alex’s physical strength was fine, maybe he wasn’t secretly coming into the bunker with bruises or cuts or scars or cracked ribs, but Kyle could still see the way Alex leaned against tables when he stood, as if to keep himself from falling over. He could still see Alex leaning his elbow on the desk a little too long, could see him nodding off in the middle of the day after countless all-nighters, could see him all but clawing at his temples and eyes as he read report after report after report of what earlier generations of the Manes family had done to the alien race. He could _see_ Alex breaking a little bit more every day.

And today was no different. Alex was slumped in his chair, his fingers rubbing his forehead, his eyes narrowed as they went through another file, as if Alex didn’t think he deserved to shut them, to look away.

Kyle looked to Michael who sat across from him, hoping that the cowboy had noticed Alex’s exhaustion, and while Michael’s eyes _were_ on Alex, they were set in more of a glare than anything else.

Kyle spotted a folder with the name _Manes_ on the top in Michael’s hand, and he felt dread build in his chest. He only hoped Alex hadn’t noticed.

“Hey,” he nudged Alex with a sudden urge to get him out of the bunker before something horrible happened. Alex didn’t seem to hear him, and Kyle poked his shoulder again. “ _Hey_.”

“Hm?” Alex slowly looked up, looking as drained as Kyle had ever seen him.

“Let’s get out of here a minute, get some food.”

For a moment, the light returned to Alex’s eyes, but then he glanced at Michael, and it dimmed again. “Oh, uh, I’m fine. You go, I still need to finish these.”

“You can finish them later, buddy,” Kyle stood, closing Alex’s files. “They’ll still be here when you get back –”

“He can’t,” Michael said, and tossed another file in front of Alex. Alex didn’t even flinch. “He has a great grandmother who needs atoning.”

“Guerin, he’s exhausted,” Kyle said with a glare. “We all are, he needs something to eat.”

“Then you go get it,” Michael said. “Alex stays here with me.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Kyle said. “Come on, Alex, let’s go.”

Michael stood. “I said he stays here.”

“He’s been holed up here for _weeks_ , some fresh air will be good for him.”

“Then he and I will go, and you can stay here.”

“You’re insane,” Kyle shook his head. “And you’re only jealous of me because you know Alex would rather be with me than you.”

Michael’s eye twitched. “ _Don’t_ say that again.”

“Let’s just ask him,” Kyle shrugged. “Or are you afraid to because you know what he’ll say?”

“Guys,” Alex’s head fell into his hands, “please _stop_.”

Kyle held Michael’s gaze, but at the sound of Alex’s stirring, his eyes fell to his friend. “I’m not humoring you anymore,” he said to Michael. “Think whatever you want. I’m taking Alex for a break. Come on, Alex.”

Alex sighed after a moment of silence, and nodded once, twice, before standing. As he moved to follow Kyle, Michael suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Alex, you said you’d help me here.”

“I will,” Alex said, “but Kyle’s right, Guerin, I just need a little break, okay?”

Michael glanced at Kyle, then back at Alex, then at Kyle, and he huffed a humorless chuckle. “Whatever you say, Manes. I’m sure you’ll keep your promise. After all, your family’s always been so honest and good, right?”

Kyle stared. “You son of a bitch.”

“What?” Michael dared him. “Am I wrong?”

“You –” Kyle took a step towards him, and Alex put an arm up, his eyes on Michael. He looked neither shocked nor hurt, just resigned, and it broke Kyle’s heart.

“What did I do wrong, Guerin?” he asked, not looking like he expected an answer. “Not the Manes, _me_. Or can you not tell the difference anymore?”

Michael looked away, and Alex’s fingers curled into fists. “Kyle’s right, you know. I’m not okay. But for weeks, I sat here, and I didn’t dare move because part of me was worried you’d just make your little snarky comments, and hurt me for wanting to stop. To look away for a split second.”

He shook his head, huffing a chuckle, and Kyle saw that his eyes were glassy. Michael seemed to just realize, too, his expression faltering.

“And I kept telling myself that wasn’t true, that you’d _want_ me to stop, that you wouldn’t want me to blame myself. But I was wrong. You don’t… you don’t care about me at all. You just want me to undo my family’s crimes – well, you know what? I don’t owe you a damn thing. I’m not doing this to fix anything, it’s not up to me. I’m doing it because I love you. Can’t,” he shrugged helplessly, “can’t you just ease up a little bit?”

“Alex…” Michael’s brows furrowed, the weight of what he’d said, what he _hadn’t_ , visibly settling on him. “Alex, I… I’m sorry, I –”

“No, don’t touch me,” Alex moved away from him. “I have a migraine, and it’s been killing me, and – and being around you just makes it worse. Come on, Kyle, I haven’t eaten all day.”

And Michael looked at Alex as if he’d slapped him, as if the thing that hurt worst of all was that Michael hadn’t even noticed that Alex had been starving. But Kyle only nodded, and said, “Yeah, I know, buddy.”

Without another word and only a meaningful glance at Kyle, Alex threw his jacket on, and walked out. Michael was staring at the door, shocked at not being chosen. He looked like his world had just shattered, and he didn’t know how to process it, and Kyle took no joy in that.

Still, he followed Alex out the door, more concerned with the airman and how _he_ was feeling. If he didn’t, it seemed, no one else would, and he didn’t think that was such a bad responsibility to have.


	58. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael gets really jealous over Alex.

Michael wanted to pretend he and Alex were fine, that he was happy with this new ‘friends’ thing they had going on, that seeing Alex smile and giggle at a text on his phone didn’t bother the hell out of him, but when Alex walked into the bunker with red cheeks and swollen lips and tousled hair as if someone had just run their hands through it, Michael felt his blood boil.

He’d already stopped paying attention to what he was reading, and had instead spent the last two hours glancing at the time on his phone, his fist tighter and tighter with every passing second. Not that Alex noticed he’d been halfway to losing his mind.

“Fun night?” he asked as Alex took a seat across from him, tossing his jacket on the back of his chair.

“It was okay,” Alex said.

Michael stared. “Did you have sex?”

Alex, startled, looked up. “A little personal, don’t you think, Guerin?”

“What, you can’t tell me?”

“I _won’t_ tell you, there’s a difference,” Alex chuckled lightly, though his brows were furrowed, his eyes avoiding Michael’s.

“It’s _me_.”

“Exactly.”

Michael tapped his finger on the table, his jaw clenched. He hated this. He _hated_ the thought of someone else running their hands through Alex’s hair, all over his chest, his stomach, his arms, his cock. Michael flinched in his seat at that last image.

Alex noticed. “Guerin? You okay?”

Michael didn’t answer. As much as he tried to force those ugly thoughts out, they came back stronger and stronger. Some guy between Alex’s legs, fitted against his hips, thrusting into him. He couldn’t help but hear Alex’s moans, the stranger’s grunts, couldn’t help but see Alex’s naked body glistening with sweat with someone _else_ grinding against him.

The remaining chairs around the table suddenly flung backwards and hit the wall, _hard_.

“Oh my –” Alex jumped. “Guerin!”

Michael blinked out of his mess of thoughts, and looked around. He sighed into his palms, rubbing his eyes until they turned red.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t say ‘nothing,’ I know something’s –”

“Private, just tell me if you slept with the guy!” he snapped, and the bunker was filled with a silence that chilled Michael’s bones.

“ _That’s_ why you’re so upset?”

“Just tell me.”

“Why does it matter?”

Michael’s eyes shut. “You did.”

“ _Guerin_ , don’t you think you’re taking this too far?”

“No, I think you’re not taking this far enough!” he snapped, and his own chair flung backwards as he stood. Something crashed behind him, but he didn’t check as he rounded the table to Alex.

He turned Alex’s chair, caging the airman in. “You’re mine. Understand? No more dates, no more going out with anyone else. You’re with _me_ , and that’s it.”

Alex blinked several times. “A-are you drunk or something?”

He tried to stand, but Michael suddenly wrapped an arm around his waist, turned them around, and pulled Alex on top of him so that the airman was suddenly straddling him.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he growled, thrusting his hips into Alex’s, making him gasp. “You’re _mine_. I don’t want anyone else touching you _ever_ again.”

“Guerin, I –”

Michael thrusted, and Alex’s words were caught in his throat, his hands instinctively clutching Michael’s shoulders. Michael leaned in, pressing his lips to the crook of Alex’s neck, and he thrusted again. He spread his fingers on Alex’s chest, and felt the airman’s heart hammering.

“Say it,” he whispered into Alex’s ear, then bit the sensitive skin there. “Say you’re mine.”

“Guerin…”

Michael inhaled shakily as he put a hand up Alex’s shirt, feeling his stomach and chest. He was going to erase every trace of the others, any print any of them might have left. He was going to touch every _inch_ of Alex until the airman only felt _him_.

“You belong to me,” he breathed, and his eyes nearly rolled back into his head as he felt Alex’s arms go around his neck, holding onto him. “Your lips, your eyes, your _body_ – it’s all mine.” He thrusted his clothed cock into Alex’s again, and again, and again. “ _Say_ it, Private,” he panted. “I want to hear you say it.”

For a moment, Michael could only feel Alex’s hot breaths in his ear, Alex’s fingers in his hair, then, “I’m yours.”

Michael’s eyes fluttered shut. “Again.”

“I’m _yours_.”

“ _Again_.”

“I’m yours, Michael. I’m yours.”


	59. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael asks Alex why he reenlisted.

Alex inhaled deeply. He smelled pine, and dirt, and burgers and fries carried over by the wind from the diner to where he stood outside amongst the tables. Mr. Ortecho had put up the Christmas tree as soon as December dawned (“If it’s November, it’s not time for Christmas!” he’d said when Liz, who had wanted to be done with the whole task of actually putting the tree up and decorating, had suggested it. Alex had laughed.), and the branches glittered with fairy lights, casting Alex in a golden glow in the midst of all the darkness. Alex wondered if it would be too long before he was able to laugh again.

The sound of chatter inside the diner was barely a hum when outside, so Alex recognized Michael’s truck as it approached him. He wished he could say he was surprised, but he knew Michael would’ve come to see him eventually.

The cowboy parked not far from Alex, and Alex pushed off the railing, hands in his pockets. Michael stepped out of the car, only glancing at Alex as he took a seat on his trunk. Alex’s eyes fell to Michael’s hand, wrapped in fabric to hide the fact that it was no longer maimed. Alex knew it was selfish, but the thought made him sad somehow.

Alex stared at the tree as Michael surveyed their surroundings as if not knowing what to focus on first, the two in complete silence. Then –

“So you re-enlisted.” Alex nodded. He hated that he could still read the loss and false bravado in Michael’s voice, could still _feel_ his tense shoulders as he sat across from him. It was as if the universe had not yet recognized that they weren’t together anymore, that they couldn’t be together after everything that had happened. That they just were no longer allowed to be cosmic.

“Why?”

“I had to,” he said.

“Yeah?” and for a moment, Michael said nothing else.

Others had already asked. They’d already questioned Alex’s sanity, they’d already cried and gotten angry, they’d already begged him to go take it back, to tell them he’d changed his mind, and Alex had calmly explained that it didn’t work that way. None of them had sat in silence and waited. Then again, none of them were Michael. Alex had never known how to _be_ around Michael.

“Are you mad?”

Michael pursed his lips. “Yeah.”

Alex mustered half a smile. “Figured you’d be.”

“And you enlisted anyway.”

“I enlisted anyway. It was the only way, Guerin.”

“Only way to _what_?”

“Saving Max,” he said, and Michael turned silent. “Stopping Project Shepherd once and for all.”

“Stopping – that’s not your _responsibility_ , Alex.”

Alex shrugged. “Then why does it feel like it is?” To this, Michael had no answer. “Guerin. I can’t sleep. I can’t do _anything_ , I just feel guilty _all the time_. And you can sit there, and tell me it’s not my job to end it, but if it’s not, then why can’t I breathe? Why does it always feel like I’m suffocating?”

Michael’s jaw clenched. “Because of me. You’re hurting because of me, Alex, not because you did anything wrong.”

Alex roughly wiped his face and sniffed. “Maybe,” he confessed. “But I can’t do anything about you. I can do something about this. So I am.”

“Always so practical,” Michael huffed a humorless chuckle. “Aren’t you tired of being the hero?”

And Alex did something he didn’t think he would get to do in a long time. He smiled. “If it saves you? Not really.”

Michael’s expression faltered, and Alex stepped closer, putting a hesitant hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

Michael did not meet his eyes as a tear rolled down his cheek, and Alex swiped it away with his thumb. Michael caught Alex’s hand, and held it against his own face, his eyes closed as he pressed his lips to Alex’s palm.

And Alex sighed.


	60. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex get stuck in a barn after a storm.

The stench of cows did nothing to cool the fire in Michael’s gut or his burning muscles, aching to hold someone.

_Well_ , he thought, _not just someone._

And as fate would have it, the only _someone_ he had ever wanted was beside him, soaked to the bone just as he was, leaning against the now closed barndoor, his chest rapidly rising and falling.

“Stop it,” Alex said without looking at him.

Michael did not deny he’d been staring, and with effort, he looked away.

“Damn it,” Alex muttered.

Michael cursed, too, though in that moment, he didn’t know whether he meant it, or whether he wanted to desperately thank whatever part of the universe decided to crash Michael’s truck on the trip back to Roswell, to bring on the storm that forced them into the barn, to have this little voyage be the _only_ one that Valenti incidentally couldn’t attend.

But since before he’d woken up, Michael had had Alex on his mind, and as much as he wanted to give in to whatever heat was pooling in his gut, whatever desire was urging every fiber in his cell to push ahead and wrap his arms around Alex and kiss the airman senseless, Michael couldn’t help but think that as long as Alex refused him, this was the most elaborate form of torture he could ever suffer.

“I’m going to go over there,” Alex said, gesturing to the back of the barn. “ _Don’t_ follow me.”

“Believe it or not, you’re not _that_ irresistible, Private,” Michael said, thinking of nothing but the way Alex’s shirt clung to his body, the way his nipples poked through the flannel, the way the water rolled down his strong neck, his hands, his cheekbones.

“Good,” Alex said, then began peeling his clothes off.

Michael’s eye twitched. “What’re you doing?”

“Trying not to get hypothermia,” Alex said. “You?”

“U-uh,” Michael swallowed. “You uh – you think I should –”

Alex stilled. “I thought you couldn’t get sick.”

“Not if I have acetone on me,” Michael shrugged. “Which I don’t.”

Alex’s shoulders deflated. “Just turn away, we can keep our backs to each other.”

“Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too seriously?”

“What’re you thinking about right now?” Alex asked like he already knew, and wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“I don’t know, the storm, the smell in here, the –”

“ _Guerin_ , I know about the planet alignment thing, _what’re you thinking about_?”

_You_. Michael almost said. Alex beneath him, Alex’s body against his, Alex’s hands on his chest, his stomach, his _cock_. Alex, Alex, _Alex_.

“Fine,” Michael ended up saying, and turned his back to Alex. When the two were out of their clothes, they sat down, Michael’s knees pulled up to his chest.

“You okay?” he asked after a while. “Does your leg hurt?”

“It’s a little stiff,” Alex confessed. “It’s the cold.”

Michael raised a brow. “You know, body heat is –”

“No.”

Michael looked over his shoulder, and instantly regretted it. Alex’s back was turned to him, but he was most definitely naked. The muscles in his back clenched, his ass cheeks rested on his own jacket, his right leg stretched out as he rubbed his thigh roughly.

Alex’s shoulders suddenly tensed. He glanced over, and he met Michael’s eyes for barely a second before he turned away. “ _Stop_ , Guerin!”

Michael whipped around, his hand on his chest. “It’s not like I’m touching you, Alex.”

“I don’t care, I don’t want you looking at me, and imagining whatever the hell you’re imagining while you’re on some kind of galactic high!” he snapped.

Michael smirked humorlessly. It hurt, hearing Alex talk like that to him, as if he couldn’t imagine anything worse than Michael touching him, kissing him, just _being_ with him.

“You didn’t used to feel like that,” he said before he could help himself.

For a moment, Alex didn’t speak, and Michael was worried he’d upset him too much, that Alex had just gotten sick of his yearning, of his _wanting_ the airman. Then –

“I don’t want you to want me when you’re like _this_.”

Michael frowned, and he looked over at Alex. “You think I want you because the planets told me to?”

Alex shook his head. “I think you’re not completely in your right mind,” he said finally.

“Private, you _know_ it’s not the planets,” he said, and he hoped Alex could read him as well as he always did. _You know it’s not the planets that are making me want you, you know I don’t_ need _the planets, you know I’ve_ never _needed the planets._

And Michael thought Alex did understand. But still, he curled in deeper on himself, and he said, “Just stop, Guerin.”

“Alex –”

“ _Stop_.”

And as Michael stared at the muscles on his back, at the way his nails dug into his arms, Michael realized with a vile taste in the back of his throat that Alex just didn’t believe him. Alex didn’t believe that Michael still loved him, that he’d _ever_ loved him. Not after everything that had happened.

Michael stood before he could register what he was doing.

“Guerin,” Alex turned away from him with a sigh. “Go away, I’m serious.”

Michael knelt behind him, his hands gentle on his arms, and to his relief, Alex’s muscles went pliant beneath his touch. That was when Michael realized that Alex had never wanted Michael away, but had needed him to be.

Michael pressed a hot, open kiss to the crook of Alex’s neck, then his shoulder.

“G-Guerin, please –”

“I want to make you feel good,” Michael breathed against Alex’s cold skin. “I want to feel you, Alex. Every part of you.”

Alex was shaking his head, his voice hoarse. “I…”

“But I won’t,” Michael said, and with great difficulty, forced himself back. “When this damn alignment is over,” he finished his words in a whisper against Alex’s ear, “I’m coming for you, Private.”

Michael’s fingers curled into trembling fists as he stood, and Alex suddenly took hold of his wrist. His fingers slid down to hold Michael’s which made the shaking stop. Alex held Michael’s gaze as he pulled his hand to his lips and kissed his fingers once.

He let go, and Michael nearly stumbled as he stepped away. He wanted, more than anything, to fall to his knees in front of Alex, and take the airman hard, soft, gently, roughly, in every way that will mark Alex as _his_. But he knew that if he did, Alex would only wonder if Michael really wanted it. He would have that nagging doubt in the back of his mind at every thrust, every breath, every whispered, _I love you_ , which Michael was more than willing to give. And he wanted Alex to love it as much as he would.

Turning away from the airman, Michael took a seat on his wet jacket, his chin rested on his knee. If he closed his eyes, the sound of the rain fell into the background, and he could hear Alex’s soft breathing cut through the storm to him, reminding him that he was there.


	61. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle asks Alex not to leave.

Kyle stepped out of his car in time to see Alex hauling the last of his cardboard boxes into the backseat.

“Hey,” he said, hands in his pockets. “Thought I’d come catch you before you left.”

“I would’ve come by the hospital, you know,” Alex said. Kyle thought he looked tired.

“I do,” he said. “But I wanted to be here when you, you know,” and he gestured to the door. Alex nodded.

“I told you where the key was,” Alex said. “It _was_ your dad’s cabin.”

“No, no, this is _your_ place, Manes. You’ll always have something to come back to.”

Alex closed his car door, and huffed a chuckle. “I think I have a little more to come back to than a cabin, Kyle,” he said with a meaningful look, and Kyle felt his heart thrash in his chest.

He cleared his throat, and looked away. “Does Guerin know?”

Alex stilled. It was only for a brief moment, and had Kyle not gotten to know his friend all over again in the past year that he’d been back, he might have missed it. But he had. So he hadn’t.

Still, he only nodded once before he pulled Alex into a hug, his hand in his hair as he pressed his lips to the airman’s shoulder.

“Don’t go, Alex,” he said against Alex’s jacket, and the airman pulled back. His smile was kind, his eyes sad.

“You know,” he said. “I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever said that to me. Thank you.”

“I know it hurts, but –”

“No,” Alex said softly. “You don’t.”

And it was all that took to silence Kyle, to hear the pain and struggle and exhaustion in Alex’s voice, to know that Alex had told himself it was okay too many times, that he could handle it before he finally resigned to the idea that maybe he couldn’t.

Alex cupped Kyle’s jaw, his thumb caressing his cheek, and Kyle couldn’t help but press his lips to the airman’s. It was only a moment, the kiss soft and warm, the air around them silent and still, as if it was allowing them this single instance in time.

When Kyle pulled away, he and Alex could not seem to bear looking at each other. He felt Alex’s hand take his, squeeze tightly, and let go. Kyle’s eyes remained on the empty cabin as Alex drove away.


	62. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex always knew his life would be a little harder.

Some people had it easier. Alex had discovered that a long time ago. He knew he would struggle in the relationship department when he’d gotten a crush on a certain blonde, blue eyed boy in his tenth-grade class, and a day before his confession, had found out the boy had a girlfriend.

He’d have to work a little harder, he’d have to prove himself a little more, he’d have to take a few more chances, and risk a few more insults and injuries. He had been resigned to the idea with minimal depression. Now he couldn’t think of anything worse.

Alex heard a laugh, and looked away from his drink to see a man nuzzling his girl’s neck. She laughed, and he kissed her smile. Alex’s gaze lingered a moment before it fell.

He tapped his glass before he finished it in one gulp, and asked for another.

There had been a time when he’d stopped noticing other couples around him; the way they smiled, and held one another, and kissed one another as if there was nothing in the world that bothered them. But that was when Michael had been there, when they’d been a possibility, when what everybody else did meant nothing so long as he had the man he loved at his side. It turned out he’d been fooling himself. Michael had never seen the same in him.

Alex sighed through grit teeth as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept, and he didn’t think that was a very good thing. It wasn’t as if he tried to stay awake, but whenever he lied down, he felt the urge to stand up again, to get work done. Sleep felt like a luxury he didn’t deserve.

“Please,” he muttered, willing his thoughts to shut up already.

Alex’s phone suddenly rang, and he pulled it out tiredly to see Michael’s name flashing on his screen. His eyes shut, and he let it ring for a moment before he hung up.

He was so tired. Tired of the excuses, of the explanations, of the guilt trips, of the apologies. It didn’t change anything. It didn’t make Alex’s leg hurt any less after hours of sitting in that chair outside Michael’s trailer, it didn’t take away the days of fever he’d endured for waiting in the freezing cold, it didn’t erase the nail marks that Alex unconsciously dug into his skin as he held on for Michael’s truck to finally come into view, which it never did. It didn’t take away what Alex knew, it didn’t tell him anything he hadn’t already suspected. It didn’t change the fact that Michael had chosen someone else.

Alex’s phone rang again. He knew he shouldn’t, he knew it would only hurt him, but he so badly wanted to hear Michael’s voice. With a swipe, he answered the call, and held his phone to his ear.

“Alex,” Michael’s voice sounded on the other end. His voice was seeped with pain and exhaustion, and all Alex could think was, _He only calls me Alex when he’s mocking me, or he’s scared._ Alex almost wondered which of the two he was now.

“Hey. I didn’t think you’d answer.”

_I didn’t want to_ , he almost said, and his eyes closed despite himself. Michael’s voice had his heart jumping only to fall again deeper into his stomach.

“Guerin,” he barely said before Michael’s hopeful tone came through.

“Yeah?”

Alex’s fingers tightened on his phone as he kept his voice quiet and devoid of emotion. He used to think Michael was the only person he could _feel_ around, the one person he was allowed to show his true thoughts and tears and excitement. Now he knew the cowboy was no different than everybody else; unsafe. “There’s nothing you can say. Okay?”

“Alex, listen to me –”

“Nothing. Don’t call me anymore. Don’t come see me. I don’t want to see you,” and he hung up. The phone did not ring again. Alex wished he wasn’t disappointed. He looked over his shoulder at the loving couple at the table behind him, and looked back to his drink. It never was that easy. Not for him.


	63. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael tries to touch Alex, but he has too many layers on.

“I hate this damn cold,” Michael heard, and looked over his shoulder to see Alex walking through the front door of the cabin with Kyle at his heels, the two covered head to toe in hats, scarves, sweaters, and jackets.

The corners of his lips quirked up as Alex plopped down beside him on the couch, his head falling onto Michael’s lap. Michael ran a hand through the airman’s hair, though it was difficult to reach even the nape of Alex’s neck with all the layers he had on.

“Rough day?”

“Hmnmhnmm,” Alex mumbled, his voice muffled through his scarves.

“Well,” Kyle said, slumping onto a large armchair. “You heard him.”

“Is my baby tired?” Michael leaned in, whispering the words in Alex’s ear before kissing along the shell. He was all but licking the airman’s cheek when Kyle finally took the hint, and stood.

“Alright, okay, I’m going, just stop with the – _knock it off_ , Guerin!”

“I’m touching my boyfriend, Valenti,” he said, and returned to nibbling on the shell of Alex’s ear as the front door closed.

 _Boyfriend._ Sometimes Michael still couldn’t believe he was allowed to use that word, and _mean_ it. To think that Alex, in his kindness, bravery, and beauty, was all _his_ – it was unreal. Michael often needed to touch the airman to prove to himself that he was there, that Alex was his now, that the past was in the past where it belonged, and no longer touched either of them.

Alex hummed as Michael kissed his ear, then his cheek, then his nose, following a trail to his lips. Alex had grown some stubble in the past few days, too busy with cleaning up the last of Jim’s records after Project Shepherd had finally come down that he’s barely had the time or the mind to shave, let alone do anything else. Including spending a night with his boyfriend.

“You sleepy?” he muttered before he kissed Alex’s lips.

Alex exhaled deeply, the extra layers acting like pillows around Michael’s head as the airman pulled him in, and kissed him. “If I say yes, will you come to bed with me?”

Michael’s grin widened against Alex’s lips. “You sound sleepy,” he said, trying to get a hand under Alex’s shirt, but whatever shirt he unbuttoned, there was a sweater beneath, as if taunting him.

“Come to bed with me,” Alex said and kissed Michael again. “We can get under the covers. It’s warm there.”

“We could do something else to heat ourselves up – oh, for the love of –” he cut off, struggling with the hems of Alex’s layers. “How many pieces of clothing do you have on?”

“A lot,” Alex said, drifting off, his arms around Michael’s shoulders loosening. “It’s cold.”

“Yeah, baby, it is,” Michael said with a sigh, brushing Alex’s bangs back from his eyes, and kissed his forehead. “Come on,” he said, bringing one arm around Alex’s back, the other around the backs of his knees. “Hang onto me.”

A few months ago, Alex would have refused to. He would’ve insisted he was fine, stood on his own, and stumbled in too many layers and exhaustion to his bedroom. But now, he wrapped his arms tightly around Michael’s shoulders, nuzzling against the cowboy’s neck, and held on as Michael carried him and his bundle of sweaters to their bed. Michael rid Alex of the coat, and left him in his sweaters and sweatpants.

He crawled in beside him, and pulled the blanket over them both. He dug and dug and _dug_ until he could feel the warm skin of Alex’s stomach. He brought an arm under Alex’s head, and pulled him in closer, his lips against the airman’s hair. Michael thought it felt a little bit like hugging a giant teddy bear. He threw a leg over Alex’s, holding him tighter.

Alex had said he hated the cold. Michael kind of loved it.


	64. Max x Alex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max comes to visit Alex for Michael's sake.

When Max had agreed to come talk to Alex on Michael’s behalf, he had expected Alex to turn him away, to maybe refuse his six-pack (what did you get the guy who once had a secret relationship with your brother?) with a silent glare before he asked him to leave, to completely shut down at the mention of Michael’s name.

He had _not_ , however, expected Alex to be standing on the roof of his cabin, hammering something into the boards.

“Manes,” he called once, and Alex squinted at him a moment.

“Max Evans?”

“That’s me,” he said, helplessly holding up the beer in his hands. Alex huffed a chuckle, his lips quirked upward in a half-smile, his brows furrowed. For lack of anything else to say, Max shrugged and said, “You need any help?”

It was hours later that they finished, the sun just starting to set as Alex looked over the newly patched roof once more before he and Max decided it was as good as it was ever going to get, and they took a seat, the open desert stretching on endlessly ahead of them, the forest behind.

“You want to tell me why you’re here, or do I already know?” Alex asked as he took a big gulp of his beer bottle. Up close, Max could see the dark circles around his eyes, the way his fingers twitched slightly on the bottle.

 _He hasn’t been sleeping_ , Max realized. He recognized that look all too well, had seen it in his own reflection before when Isobel’s life had been on the line. It had been a miserable time, waiting for the world to end.

Max knew he ought to have defended his brother, to ask Alex to just call Michael, or read his texts. But Alex clearly wasn’t sleeping, and maybe it was because Max knew about the sacrifices Alex had made for Michael and Isobel, but he felt it wrong to push now. Alex needed the choice to say no, to not have to deal with this yet. Max thought the least he could do was give him that.

“I’m here to thank you, Alex,” he said, and Alex blinked, startled. “For what you did for me. For everything. I just… thank you.”

“You – er… you’re welcome.”


	65. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex realizes some things he believed as a kid weren't the way most kids did things.

“Earth to Alex!”

“Hm?” Alex pulled one headphone off, raising a brow at Kyle who was leaning over a table, waving his arms around to get the airman’s attention. Michael was glancing up at him from his files. “Sorry, did you say something?”

He huffed. “Only for the past half-hour. What’s that?”

“Oh,” Alex looked down at the old music player in his hand. “Found this when I went to clear out our old house this morning. Thought I’d find something important, something my dad might’ve hidden.”

Kyle frowned. “Alex, I could’ve come with you. I know you how much you hate that place.”

Alex’s smile was small. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. But I found this, it used to be Flint’s. Saddest music player ever.” He chuckled, and at Kyle and Michael’s looks, he explained, “You know, for good days. He called it the Great Depression.”

“What is that?” Michael asked.

Alex blinked. “Seriously?” Michael shrugged a shoulder, and Alex looked to Kyle, expecting him to be equally surprised, but Kyle was only staring at Alex with a confused look on his face. “Come on, you know. Sad songs that we used to play on days when dad didn’t feel like yelling or hitting something or scaring us. To remind ourselves that every day is a bad day, and you just have to learn to get used to it.”

Kyle and Michael exchanged looks. “Did – uh – did you have one of these?” Kyle finally asked, and Alex shrugged.

“Of course,” Alex said, and tilted his head. He vaguely heard something shift behind him, but he didn’t look. Michael was staring off into space. “Flint said everyone had one.”

Kyle shook his head. “ _I_ didn’t.”

“That’s not a thing, Alex, your brother lied,” Michael said harshly as he stood, and tossed the file onto the table. Kyle glared at him as he paced the bunker, but Alex was staring at the music player in his hands.

“A-are you guys messing with me?”

“Oh my _god_ , Alex,” Kyle said, as if Alex was a dying puppy he’d found on the side of the road.

Alex shook his head, his eyes shut, his brows furrowed. There was definite movement of something behind him, but he was too caught up in his own thoughts to check. “No, I… that stuff helps, it – it’s therapeutic.”

“ _Depressing_ yourself?” Michael snapped.

“I – why are either of you surprised, you know I was a _goth_ in high school, right?” Alex looked down at the music player, running his thumb across the buttons. “Wait,” he looked up, “wait. Does this mean you guys didn’t have military homework when you were kids either? Because Flint told me that was a thing, too.” His words turned to a mumble by the end at Kyle and Michael’s glares. “Is that not a thing?”

“What the hell’s _military_ homework?”

Alex opened his mouth right before Michael said, his voice threateningly low, “ _Don’t_ answer that.”

More shuffling, and Alex finally turned to see every computer, chair, file, and other equipment surrounding them floating several feet above of the air. He turned to Michael with wide eyes, but the cowboy was staring at the music player in Alex’s hands, seemingly unaware of what he was doing.

“Guerin,” he swallowed past the lump in his throat. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Michael said with a humorless smirk. “It’s _great_.”

“Geez, Guerin,” Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose, “would you calm down? Look, he’s sitting right here, he’s fine.”

“I hate your family,” Michael said, beginning to pace again. “I fricking _hate_ them. Did I ever mention that?”

“Now and then,” Kyle said dryly, but Alex’s attention had left the conversation as he remembered the way he used to wake up when he was eight with the worst case scenarios of everything that could happen that day running through his head. He had been told to scan any room he walked into for exit points, assessing the fatal nerve of any stranger he came across, have a plan, and expect cruelty. Never kindness. Never trust.

Alex’s finger tapped against the music player. He had thought the war had turned him into a soldier, but he was wrong. He had been trained long before he ever joined the Air Force. He had expected war, and the worst part – he realized as he remembered each song in his own playlist – was that he’d been resigned to that. Be miserable because people would disappoint you anyway. It was best to accept that. And he had.

Alex looked up at Michael. _Until he hadn’t._ For a moment in time, Alex realized, he’d unconsciously gone against everything he’d ever learned to be because Michael had been there, and suddenly he had someone to fight for, someone – he supposed – he valued too much to have the same miserable existence he did. Someone he wanted to protect.

And that someone had ultimately disappointed him, too.

He inhaled sharply at the thought. What was he doing? Where was his mind going? What was the point in revisiting that heartbreak now?

He threw the music player onto the desk, and at the sound, Kyle and Michael looked to him. Everything behind Alex came back to earth with a crash, and Alex shut his eyes.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, I’m sorry I grabbed the damned thing.” He grabbed a file, and opened it to read. “Can we just get back to work please?”

There was a moment of silence, then Kyle nodded and returned to his journals. Michael, Alex realized, was still staring at him.

It was almost funny to think that after everything, Alex still dropped his defenses around Michael, that he still had _hope_. He couldn’t help but wonder whether or not that was a good thing.


	66. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex get pulled up by a dirty cop who tries hitting on Alex.

Michael looked to the passenger seat where Alex slept against the window, and his lips quirked up. His arms were crossed tightly to ward off the cold, and as they came to a red light, Michael took his own jacket off, and carefully draped it across Alex’s chest. Alex murmured in his sleep, shifted under the jacket, and turned silent. Michael’s smile widened.

It had been days since he’d seen Alex sleep at all, and the thought that he could do it so easily now with no one else but Michael in the car sent a warmth throughout his chest. He checked to make sure the heaters were working, and lightly pressed two fingers to Alex’s rosy cheeks to know he was warm enough. Michael thought of Alex awake, and knew that the airman would not appreciate being coddled, least of all by the cowboy. And yet the knowledge of that only made Michael want to laugh.

A few months ago, he might’ve been brokenhearted by it, might’ve wanted to wake Alex up just to justify himself, might’ve wanted to pull over and hold Alex in his sleep because he knew he would never get another chance to touch the airman. Now, things were different. He and Alex had spent nights talking, had laughed, had had dinner together, had bonded over fries dipped in milkshakes and Star Wars and music. When Alex looked away from him nowadays, his cheeks flushed. When he told Michael to go away, he said it in a whining tone, laughter bubbling in his throat, that only made Michael want to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. When Alex caught him staring, he’d throw something at him to stop, his lips turned to a cute that made Michael’s heart melt.

And now Alex had trusted him enough to help him follow up on a lead, no Valenti required, which Alex admittedly did not do often. Baby steps.

At any rate, Michael was just reaching over to push Alex’s bangs back from his eyes, and to – he confessed – get a feel of Alex’s soft locks in his hair, his warm skin against his fingers, when he heard the wail of a police siren, and he stopped. Flashing red and blue in his rearview mirror, Michael saw a police car following _him_ , and while rolling his eyes, pulled over to the side.

The first thing Michael registered as the tall cop came to his window was that he reeked of alcohol. Michael would know what that smelled like. He tensed. He’d dealt with drunk cops before, but that was when it was only him in the car, and not Alex with him.

“Howdy, partner,” the cop said, and Michael had all too often recognized the sway in his own drunkenness, the way his words slurred, the way his eyes never clearly focused on whoever was in front of him not to recognize it in someone else. His hands tightened on the wheel.

 _Damnit, come on_ , he thought. _Not now._

“You know how fast you were going?”

Michael forced a smile. “Honestly didn’t, officer,” he said. Okay, maybe if he stayed calm, the worst that would come out of all of this would be a speeding ticket.

The officer raised a brow. “License and registration please.”

And so Michael sat with his thumbs tapping the steering wheel as the officer looked them over – or _tried_ to. It was pitch black outside, and the cop could barely stand straight. Michael doubted he was even really reading anything on the page. He handed them back to Michael without a ticket, and did something Michael had never seen a cop do.

He leaned an elbow on the car’s hood and peered inside. It took a second for Michael to realize that he was watching Alex.

“What were you boys doing all the way in Hobbs, anyway? That’s a long drive from Roswell.”

Michael frowned. _How the hell did this guy know where they had been?_

“Can I just have my ticket so we can get home?” he said, then, as an afterthought, added, “ _Sir_.”

The cop smirked, and it terrified Michael because it was _that_ look that he feared most of all in himself when he was drunk. _That_ look always meant trouble.

“You know,” the police officer said, scratching his jaw as he looked around as if to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “I could forget the whole ticket thing if,” he gestured with his chin at Alex, “you’ll let me wake up your friend there. Take him for a ride.”

Michael stared. “You followed us, didn’t you? You sick bastard, you _followed_ us?”

The officer, it seemed, did not seem to appreciate being accused. “Alright, why don’t you step out of the car, sir.”

“Like hell I will.”

“Get out of the car.”

The officer, Michael saw, was still glancing at Alex’s sleeping figure. Michael’s hands curled to fists. He did want to step out of the car, if only to shoot this creep across the desert and watch him fall on the other side like a pebble, but he didn’t want to leave Alex in here alone, not for a second. He had the horrible feeling that if he did, Alex would be in danger.

“Say, _officer_ ,” Michael said through grit teeth. “You noticed your car’s on fire yet?”

The cop frowned, glanced at his police car, then did a doubletake. Somehow, the car had turned into a giant bonfire, the flames reaching the dark skies in an instant.

“What the hell,” he muttered, then when the glass suddenly shattered and the tires popped, screamed, “WHAT THE HELL?!”

As he ran to put it out, Michael turned his own engine back on and drove off. And if the cop’s wrist and one of his ankles suddenly broke for no apparent reason, then Michael couldn’t say he knew anything about that.

Michael pulled his phone out and dialed as Alex stirred awake. He looked into the rearview mirror, relieved that the fire was no longer in sight.

“You good?” he asked, holding the phone up to his ear.

“Sorry,” Alex muttered, rubbing his face. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Hm? No, you’re fine. Max, hey,” he said as his brother picked up on the other end, “I – yeah, I know what time it is – I need you to do something for me. _Yeah_ , brother, _now_.”

“What happened?” Alex looked around. “Are we in Roswell?”

“Not yet, Private, go back to sleep.” Then, into the phone, “There’s a cop from the Hobbs district whose car just set fire in the middle of the road. Might want to look into him. No, Sherriff, I have no idea how. I’ll text you the details in a bit. ‘Kay.”

And he hung up, fully aware Alex was watching him with furrowed brows. “Did something happen?”

Michael grinned, reaching a hand over to ruffle Alex’s hair which the airman dodged. “Just a little accident.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “You have that look.”

“What look?”

“That _I-just-broke-a-dick’s-arm_ look.”

Michael huffed a chuckle, shaking his head. “Go back to sleep, Private. I’ll wake you when we get to the cabin.”

“Can you at least…” his words trailed off, and before Michael could ask what was wrong, Alex said, “Is this your jacket? Aren’t you cold?”

Michael’s grin widened. “Aren’t you tired?”

“At least take it back.”

“When you leave. I need it to smell like you so I have something to remember you by.”

“You’re a loser.”

“Made you blush a little bit though, didn’t I?”

Alex said nothing for a moment, then, “I’m going to sleep.”

Michael laughed, reached to touch Alex’s arm, and this time, Alex allowed the contact. Michael was glad; part of him needed to be reassured that Alex was here, safe, with him. “You do that, Private.”


	67. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt taken from FRIENDS when Rachel wants to know about the "best sex" Monica has ever had, and Chandler goes, "REALLY?!"

Michael had this look. Alex had long ago discovered that when one corner of the cowboy’s lips quirked upward, just slightly, and he got that glint in his eyes, as beautiful as it was, it usually meant trouble wasn’t far along.

And boy, oh boy, was it at his heels this time. The night had started off innocent enough with the group at the Crashdown Café, and Michael had squeezed in next to Alex with the pretense that there were no other available seats (even though there _really_ were). They couldn’t help it, really. Once Michael had listened to Alex, had let him explain that when he had feared telling anyone about their relationship, it was because he had wanted this _one_ thing in his life, this love he had for the cowboy, to be _his_ , Michael had melted. He’d kissed Alex, then kissed him again, and again, and would not release him for the rest of the night. They’d been inseparable since.

But they had agreed that, for a while, they wanted what they had to be secret, to belong to them. Still, that didn’t make avoiding each other while in public any easier. All Alex wanted to do was touch Michael, to kiss his stubbled cheek, to run his hands through Michael’s curly hair, and hold his hand. And judging by the way Michael continuously ran a hand down Alex’s arm when no one was looking, by the way he pinched his ass as he passed by, and the way he took his hand under the table now at the café, Alex knew he wanted the same.

“Please, _stop_ ,” Isobel demanded as she and Liz took their seats across from them. “I don’t want to hear about you and my brother. You are so _not_ as appealing as you think you are.”

“Is it because you don’t like me?” Liz raised a brow.

“I tolerate you just fine,” Isobel said. “I’m just sick of knowing about my brothers’ sex lives, like, I don’t care. You think I’m joking? _I don’t care_.”

Michael scoffed. “Because hearing about _your_ sex life is so much fun?”

“Okay, fine. Outsider,” Isobel said. “Manes, what have you got?”

Alex blinked, his French-fry halfway to his milkshake. “What?”

“You’re the only one who’s not dating one of my brothers, so have at it,” she said. “When are we going to meet this mystery guy of yours?”

“M-mystery guy?”

“Uh, Alex,” Liz tried with an annoyed glance at Isobel. Evidently, everyone had known, and had agreed to keep it a secret. “You’re not… really subtle. I mean, I’ve never seen you so happy.”

Alex tried very hard to avoid Michael’s gaze. “Well –”

“I mean, _ever_ ,” Liz pressed. “But,” she reached across the table, and took his hand in both of hers. “Hey, it’s great. I’m so happy for you.”

“Right,” Alex muttered, nodding along, and he inhaled sharply as he felt Michael’s hand suddenly on his thigh.

“So?” Isobel raised a brow. “You going to tell us who it is, or what?”

Alex leaned back, searching for the right words. If Michael’s hand moved any further up, Alex resolved, he would kill the cowboy right here in this diner. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. First, he’d take him to the bathroom and do very nasty things to him. _Then_ he’d kill him.

“You know, I’m – uh – I’m not so sure he’s up to meeting anybody yet.” Michael’s hand kept reaching, and Alex forced a tight smile as he said, “And my sex life is dead.” Michael’s hand stilled. Alex huffed a chuckle. “Really, it’s kind of like punishment. I’m talking no sex _at all_.”

The cowboy’s hand finally fell, and Alex was able to breathe.

“Yeah,” Michael said with his lips pressed together. “He’s probably not up to meeting anybody yet.”

“Stay out of it, Michael,” Isobel said. “Alex doesn’t get out much, and I want to know about the best sex he’s ever had.”

Michael’s grin returned tenfold, and Alex got the desperate urge to shoot himself. “ _Really_? He said that? _You_ _said that_?”

Alex shook his head, his tongue in his cheek. Finally, after a moment, “I… _may_ have said that.”

And Michael laughed loudly, pulling Alex into a hug, ruffling his hair. “Tell me all about it, I want to hear this!”

Liz and Isobel exchanged concerned and confused looks, and Liz asked, “Why are you so happy about this?”

“Happy?” Michael wiped a tear as his laughter subsided. “I’m – you know, I’m – obviously, I’m devastated, but – I don’t know, he’s lying! He’s been with _me_ , so…”

Liz raised a brow. “What, you’re so great, no one can compare? You’re that sure of yourself?”

“Oh, I wasn’t, Doc. I’ll admit, I had my doubts.” Michael crossed his arms, evidently pleased. “Not so much anymore.”

Alex watched Michael out of the corner of his eyes. He had no idea Michael had undermined his own value to him, and… well, he begrudgingly supposed that if he had to be embarrassed this once for Michael to gain confidence and know how much Alex loved being with him, then that wasn’t such a bad thing.

A few moments of meaningless conversation passed, then Liz asked, “Is it someone we know?”

Alex looked up, and Isobel said, “Can’t be. How many guys do _you_ know who are _‘hotter than a Greek god?’_ I sure as hell don’t know any.”

Alex slid onto the floor with a groan, his face hidden behind his hands. Michael hooked an arm around Alex’s shoulders, his smile wide. “I love everything about this day.”


	68. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle and Alex had a car crash, and Kyle wants to see Alex.

“Let me in!”

“Jesus, Valenti, you’re bleeding –”

Kyle swatted his colleague’s hand away. In the back of his mind, he knew she was only worried for him, but he couldn’t focus on that, Alex’s sleeping figure as they rolled him into the Emergency Room fresh in his mind. He could still hear the car windows shattering, the tires screeching against the asphalt, the car door as it was wrenched open by an invisible force. And he could still see the dark look in _her_ eyes as she leaned over Alex. Kyle clenched his fists.

“I don’t care about me,” he said. “I need to get in to see Alex!”

She was almost two heads shorter than him, yet she was fast enough to block his way into the operating room where he knew Alex – _his_ Alex – was lying unconscious on a bed right now being cut into, his life on the line.

“You just crashed a car and sustained serious injuries, _Kyle_ , we have to get you to an examination room.”

“ _Meg_ –”

“I know you’re worried,” she said, her grip on his arms like iron. It was strange, he thought for a brief hysterical moment, that the woman who used to help him keep other frantic men and women from following their loved ones into the operating room was now using her strength to keep Kyle from his. “But you are staining your clothes, and you’re scaring the other patients.”

“But Alex –”

“Your friend will be fine, you _need_ to calm down,” she said through grit teeth, and – when she was sure he wasn’t going to try to pass her again – released him. She kept her watchful gaze on him until the automatic doors closed, separating them, and Kyle slid to the floor against the wall, his head in his hands.

Meg had been right. His hands were covered in dry blood, and his clothes red. Part of him thought he should take a shower and change, but he couldn’t leave Alex’s side. A few nurses came running out, presumably sent by Meg who was still inside, and offered to take a look at Kyle’s injuries. After a few testy “I’m fine” and “I’m not leaving him” declarations, the nurses could think of nothing else to do but clean what they could manage of the blood, where Kyle was sitting, and bandage him up where he needed it. His injuries, save for a few cuts from the window shield, really hadn’t been that bad. It was the airman he was terrified for. It was the airman who hadn’t been moving.

“Kyle!” Kyle looked up at the familiar sound. No sooner had he gotten to his feet than Liz lunged at him with her arms around his shoulders. “Max just got the call about the car crash, and we came right over! Are you okay?”

“What the hell happened?” Max huffed, looking to the doors of the Emergency Room, and then to Kyle. “The call said _Alex_ had crashed his car.”

“He did,” Kyle swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Everything was fine, then suddenly it was like we were pushed off the road.”

Max rubbed his eyes with a deep exhale. “Good thing we didn’t tell Michael.”

Kyle was staring off into space, his head reeling. “I can’t do this, I have to go see him –”

“Kyle –”

“Liz, I’m the best surgeon in town, and Alex – _Alex_ – is in _there_ , and I’m out _here_! I can’t _breathe_!”

“Okay, okay,” she said quietly, pulling him into a hug, her hand on the back of his head. “Shh, it’s going to be okay.”

“It’s Alex, Liz,” Kyle muttered as he wrapped his arms around Liz’s waist. Max patted his shoulder once, his grip tight, comforting. And Kyle gasped, pulling back. “There was a woman, a-an alien!”

Liz’s brows furrowed, and Max frowned. “What are you talking about, Valenti?”

“A woman, there –” Kyle looked around to make sure no one was listening in, and pulled the two into a corner. “Alex was driving the car, and a woman suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He swerved and just missed her, but I woke up for a minute, and I _saw_ her come up to the car.”

Liz shook her head. “Maybe she was just trying to help –”

“No, Liz, she touched Alex and her hand glowed. I tried to get to him, but I couldn’t move. Next thing I knew, I was out again.”

Max and Liz exchanged looks. “Kyle,” Max said gently, “you were in an accident, you could’ve been hallucinating, you probably didn’t wake up at all –”

“She did something to Alex!” he snapped. “You think I’m playing around here?”

“Dr. Valenti?” a voice cut in, and the three looked to the doors where Meg stood with a confused furrow of her brows. “You… might want to come see this.”

Kyle looked to Max and Liz before the three of them followed the nurse into the surgery observation room. She had been against letting Max and Liz inside, but Kyle had said they were Alex’s family, and that was that.

There was a monitor pulled up against the glass. First thing was first; Kyle made sure the airman’s heartbeats were regular, there were no problems in his blood flow, and aside from a broken arm and a few bruises and minor cuts, there were no other injuries. He allowed himself a moment of peace before the monitor focused on a strange symbol burning red on Alex’s forearm. A symbol that had definitely not been there this morning.

“What the hell is that?” Liz asked, her eyes narrowed.

“Oh my God,” Max breathed. “That’s _my_ symbol, on my shoulder.”

“What –” Liz’s frown deepened, panic starting to visibly seep in with the twinkle of her eye. “Has Alex always had that?” Kyle shook his head. She covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my God. Someone came after him?”

“It’s a message,” Max said quietly, glaring at the symbol on the monitor. “To us. Someone knows we care about Alex, so they’re trying to warn us.”

Kyle’s hands curled to fists against the glass as he took in Alex’s appearance on the operating table. He had been laughing and singing before that damn crash, a big, beautiful smile on his face as Kyle had so rarely seen of him. The airman had done nothing but protect Michael and his family, and in return, he was beaten for it. No matter what he did, he was always beaten down. It wasn’t _fair_.

“Warn you of what?” he said through grit teeth.

“They know who he is to us,” Max said grimly. “They know who he is, and they can kill him.”


	69. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle hates hearing the word "cosmic."

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kyle pulled Alex to him before he reached the bunker door, wrapping an arm around his waist, taking his lips in his own.

Alex chuckled into his mouth, his hands on Kyle’s chest. “What was that for?”

Kyle nuzzled against Alex’s nose. “Just saving up for the day. I’m going to miss you.”

Alex smiled. “Miss me?”

“I know, look at me,” he said, and kissed Alex again, and again, and _again_. “I’m a clingy boyfriend. Who would’ve guessed?” he brought a hand down Alex’s spine, then up again. “I’d love to get clingier, but I could do without the side-eyes from Guerin.”

Alex sighed. “What he says about us doesn’t matter. Don’t let him get to you.”

“He loves you, Alex,” Kyle said, and Alex seemed to have no response. “It kills him to see you with me, I know it does. Hey,” he gently raised Alex’s chin with his fingers, tilting his head and kissing the airman’s lips. “I don’t need his permission to love you. I just don’t always feel like hearing what he has to say. Today is one of those days.”

Alex’s fingers tightened in Kyle’s jacket. He nodded. In truth, Kyle knew he would. At the mention of Michael’s love for him, Alex always seemed to be at a loss. It baffled Kyle that Alex had actually believed at any point in his life that no one cared for him, and he hated himself for _allowing_ it for so long. But things were different now, and Alex was _his_ , not Michael’s, and whatever had kept the two together in the past was over now. Kyle would make sure of it.

He took Alex’s face in his hands, and kissed him hard before releasing him. Alex bit his lower lip to keep his grin from widening as he entered the bunker, Kyle at his heels feeling satisfaction bloom in his chest at being the one to turn Alex’s cheeks so red.

Michael looked up from where he sat, his brow raised at Kyle only briefly before his eyes settled on Alex. _He and Alex always seem to find each other first in any room_ , Kyle’s mind helpfully reminded him. He told it to shut up.

Alex sat across from Michael with Kyle beside him.

“Did you finish looking through those 1950 files from last week?” Alex asked, pulling up his own computer.

“Yep,” Michael said, tossing the paper onto the messy pile on the desk. “And you wanna know what I found?” At Alex’s and Kyle’s questioning eyes, he said, “Nothing.” Their shoulders slumped. “No mention of any facilities, no weird names, no codes. Just a lot of algorithms, which, _yes_ , I ran, and they were not coordinates or a secret message. Just a lot of numbers.”

Alex sighed, rubbing his face with one hand as his other set to work on the emails and encryptions. “Great. Well, no facilities is something, I guess. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.”

“Crap,” Kyle checked his watch. “I have to get back to the hospital,” he stood, bending only to peck Alex’s lips. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Got a date?” Michael said with a humorless smirk. “That’s still going on?”

“That’s not funny,” Alex said.

Michael heaved a sigh, crossing his legs over the table as he reached for another file. “Wasn’t trying to be funny, Private.”

“You’re not together, okay?” Kyle snapped. “Try to get that into your head for one _goddamn_ second – Alex is _my_ boyfriend. Not yours. He loves me, not you.”

“Kyle, don’t do this.”

Michael’s eye twitched as he glared at Kyle, his smirk growing wider as he said, “Ask Alex if he loves me.”

“ _Guerin_ , stop it!”

“Go on,” Michael edged. “If you’re so sure he’s yours, ask him.”

Kyle did not respond. His hand tightened on Alex’s shoulder before he turned to leave. The door closed behind him, and he faltered in his steps. He shut his eyes, pressing the bottoms of his palms into them. _Damn it._

He heard the door open and shut again, and without looking, knew who had followed him out. “He never stops,” he said, turning to Alex who looked concerned and conflicted all at once. Kyle both hated and loved that look. “Alex, it’s exhausting.”

Alex pressed his lips together. “I know.”

Kyle sighed. “You would, wouldn’t you?” He leaned against his car, shaking his head. “I can’t… compete with him, with _you_ , I can’t.”

“Compete? What’re you talking about?”

“That damn _cosmic_ connection you guys have. Guerin’s made it pretty clear the universe wants you two together.”

“Are –” Alex blinked, his brows furrowed. “Are you breaking up with me right now? I-I can’t tell.”

“ _No_ , Alex, I,” he rubbed his face. “I have to know, I’m sorry, I _have_ to – do you still love him?”

Alex’s expression softened. “Kyle…”

“I know what your answer will be, but I just need to hear it; do you still love him?”

Alex said nothing for a long moment, then, “Yeah. I do.” When Kyle looked up at the sky, he said, “I’m sorry –”

He shook his head, and forced half a smile. “No, don’t be. Like I said. I knew what your answer would be.”

“I can’t stop loving him,” Alex said quietly, then, exasperated, he went on, “but I don’t _want_ to be with someone because some cosmic _whatever_ said so. I want… I want someone who knows my restaurant order, and who gets me sweaters for my birthday, and who laughs at all my jokes, and… and who looks at me like you do.”

Kyle shut his eyes and let his forehead fall onto Alex’s shoulder. Alex wrapped his arms around Kyle’s waist, holding him there, and all the while, the doctor couldn’t help but think; _Stupid Manes. As if I’d ever go anywhere._

“I don’t want to have any more choices taken away,” Alex said, and Kyle brought his hands to the airman’s neck. “I want to make my own choice, and I choose you. Can’t that be good enough?”

And in his voice, Kyle heard all the pain that he’d suffered at the hands of those he’d trusted, those the universe had left him with, those who turned away from him when he’d needed them. Kyle wanted to hurt anyone that ever hurt his Alex.

“It’s more than enough,” he said, and took Alex’s lips in his in a deep kiss, muttering, “It’s enough, it’s enough” against his shoulder. Kyle wondered how many times Alex had been made to feel like what he was doing, or what he’d done, was the exact opposite. How many times did he have to prove himself? How many times did he have to love before his feelings were taken and valued?

And he believed Alex loved him.

Kyle kissed up Alex’s jaw, his cheek, his nose, pressed his lips to each of the airman’s eyes, and before he could kiss his lips again, he said, “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” Alex breathed.

“The next time you use the word cosmic, I want it to be in bed,” he said, and Alex burst into laughter, “and _nowhere_ else! I’m just saying, it’ll be a lot easier to put up with it.”

“You got it,” Alex muttered with a wide grin against Kyle’s lips before kissing him. They kissed until Kyle felt Alex’s stomach beneath his shirt, and knew he was taking it too far, too soon. With a lot of effort, and a last hard kiss to Alex’s lips, Kyle pulled away, unable to help but feel like something was always tearing him and the airman apart.


	70. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle and Alex out of Roswell.

“We should probably get up.”

“We should,” Kyle sighed, content. “Are we actually going to though?”

Alex turned to look at Kyle’s profile. They had spent all day unpacking things into their small Brooklyn apartment, and collapsed on opposite ends of the bed, their heads pillowed on the other’s shoulder. Alex smiled as he thought that they might just never get up again, and he would be fine with that.

“You’re staring,” Kyle said, and Alex’s grin widened.

“Of course I am,” he said, and kissed Kyle’s stubbled cheek. “Have you seen you?”

Kyle’s brows furrowed as he reached up to touch Alex’s hair. “That sounds like something _I_ would say, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Alex said. “Huh. Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”

Kyle smirked. “Well –”

“Don’t,” Alex laughed, hitting his chest with a pillow. “I heard it the second I said it.”

Kyle bit his lower lip, and in one swift move, came up to hover over Alex, attacking his lips with his own. It was a mix of giggles and lips and hands, then Kyle tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and Alex absolutely _melted_. He wrapped his arms around Kyle’s head, his fingers stretching between the dark locks, pulling Kyle closer, closer, _closer_. Kyle took Alex’s lower lip between his teeth, and Alex gasped into the doctor’s mouth.

“I love you,” Kyle breathed, and Alex ran a hand down his arm. “I love you, I love you, _I love you_.”

“That sounds like something I would say,” Alex whispered, and Kyle closed his eyes, pressing their foreheads together. Alex’s own eyes fluttered shut as he inhaled his boyfriend’s scent. If he had been asked two years ago what Kyle meant to him, Alex might’ve said; “Someone I care about. Someone that means a lot to me.”

Now, Kyle was _his_. Not just his best friend, not just his lover, but _his_. The traffic sounds outside blared, and with the window open and the curtains flying, Alex could smell a mix of smoke, and pizza, and sugar. But he didn’t care because this was new, this was different. This was what they needed.

“It feels weird,” he said, hours later as he lay on Kyle’s chest, the doctor’s hand going down his spine.

Kyle’s hand stilled on his skin. “Considering what we just did, Manes, some context would be great right about now.”

Alex huffed a chuckle and kissed Kyle’s nipple, then his collarbone before settling comfortably again. “Not being in Roswell,” he clarified. “Not being in Jim’s cabin. Not expecting anyone to come through the door, or my phone to ring because someone needs help with something somewhere. It just feels weird.”

“Being free, you mean.”

Alex considered this. _Had_ he been trapped in Roswell? In that life? He thought of all the guilt he’d carried for so much of his time, the _weight_ of it all. He thought about the nights he would wake up suffocated, drenched in sweat. He thought of the faces he never wanted to see, the ones he’d had to, the ones that cried and yelled and mocked him.

Then he thought about Kyle, and Buffy (he couldn’t wait for everything to settle down so he could go get her), and the long winter nights spent in front of the fireplace, often with nothing but the faux fur of the carpet to keep them warm where they lay. He thought of dinners he spent laughing with Kyle, music he’d spent listening to with Kyle, nightmares he’d woken from with Kyle’s arms wrapped tightly around him, his gentle voice lulling him back to sleep. He thought of his moments, of _their_ moments. Of the moments he had chosen, and he realized – he was finally allowed to choose.

“Yeah,” he said, the beginnings of a smile forming on his lips despite his own wonder of it all. “I guess I do.”


	71. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex wants to dance with Michael, but there's another better suited dance partner.

There was a party going on tonight. Actually, if Alex remembered correctly, Liz had called it a _gala_ , and said it was a tie event. Everyone was required to wear a tux or evening dress. And Alex didn’t really want to go. His finger tapped incessantly on the table in front of him, he kept looking at the bunker door as if expecting someone to come through, and he had been reading the same file for the past two hours, but he didn’t want to go.

Liz and Maria had gone, as had Kyle, and Forest wasn’t answering Alex’s calls for whatever reason. It wasn’t often that Forest didn’t answer his calls, but it did happen sometimes. Alex found his spirits dimmed at the lack of response tonight in particular.

He glanced up at Michael across from him, the cowboy focused on a file of his own. Brief images flashed in Alex’s mind – he and Michael on the dance floor, dressed up with glasses of champagne like in those old black and white movies, Michael’s hand on his waist, holding him closely, their foreheads pressed together. The truth was, he didn’t care about being at the actual gala, so long as he and Michael were together. They tried to talk and pretend they were friends, but Alex could still hear the venom in Michael’s words, could still hear his hatred for the Manes family and what they had taken away from him. But it was alright, because Michael still loved him. Did it hurt that he saw Alex as his family name and not as _him_ half the time?

Alex shut his eyes and sighed. That train of thought was getting him nowhere, and this was not the night for it. Alex inhaled deeply, and held it. Resolved, he pushed himself out of his chair, and rounded the table to Michael. Michael looked up from his file, his brow raised.

Alex swallowed. He put a hand out for Michael to take. “Wanna dance?”

Michael frowned. “What?”

Alex’s heart hammered in his chest. “I figured if we’re not going to be at the gala tonight, we could still have this. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Michael looked at Alex’s hand, then his face, then his hand, and shook his head, returning his attention to his file. “No.”

Alex’s smile faltered. Michael had confessed that he sometimes struggled to keep a friendly conversation with Alex, especially when he was filled with so much anger at the Manes, but to just reject him so bluntly, as if the mere request was ridiculous – it stung.

But this was Michael, so Alex tried again. “It’s just one dance, Guerin,” he even huffed a chuckle, though it admittedly cost him some effort. Laughing took such an _effort_ around Michael nowadays. “I’ll even let you lead.”

“Seriously, Alex,” he said, and Alex could’ve sworn the cowboy actually inched further away from him. “I’m busy with this, and I can’t dance anyway,” he added as if it was an afterthought, as if it made his words any kinder.

Alex wanted to cry, and if he hadn’t spent so much of his life forcing it down, he may just have done it. All he was asking for was one dance, just _one_ , and Michael was treating him as if he was an infectious disease, spreading pain and misery to anything he touched.

He stepped back, and would’ve dropped his offered hand… but he wanted to dance with Michael so badly, to feel him close. Just once. He would endure the cruelty if he just got that.

“The work will still be there when you get back,” he tried again, forcing his voice to be lighter. It hurt, to pretend so much around Michael. “Come on, Guerin, I’ll turn on some music, and –”

“Alex, I just don’t want to dance with you!” he snapped, and Alex flinched. He seemed to realize then what he’d said, but it was too late.

“Sorry,” Alex muttered, returning to his seat. The air grew silent and cold between them, and Alex didn’t dare look up from his file. He felt so stupid, so embarrassed, his fingers digging into his thigh under the table. He was suddenly glad not to have gone to the gala. He wouldn’t have known what to do in a place like that anyway.

“Bonjour, bitches!” the front door suddenly opened, and there he was, in a tuxedo of his own – Forest. He had a zipped up ensemble draped over one shoulder as he surveyed the bunker, his eyes going between a fond Alex and an annoyed Michael before they settled on Alex. “Come on, baby. You and me, gala.”

Alex couldn’t help it; he chuckled, and as he did, his heart couldn’t help but hurt. “What’re you talking about?”

“Please,” Forest plopped down on the chair next to him, his arms crossed over the back. “I’ve been part of your unit for six years. I _knew_ you wouldn’t go to that gala and would spend your Friday night locked in this dusty toolbox instead. So, naturally, I had to make a dramatic entrance to convince you to come.” He set the clothes on the counter, and Alex unzipped the sheet to check the inside. A black and white tux with a bowtie.

Alex huffed in disbelief. “ _This_ is why you haven’t been answering my calls?”

“You can tell a lie through a snowstorm,” Forest said with a shrug, as if he was mentioning a well-known fact. “I couldn’t let you figure anything out until after I got the tuxes. I didn’t want to get your hopes up, and then disappoint you if it didn’t work out.” He stood with a sigh. “So don’t disappoint me. Come with me to the gala.”

Alex looked down at Forest’s outstretched hand, the same gesture he himself had offered Michael only a moment ago. He had wanted to go to the gala with Michael, to feel his warmth and hear his laugh, but he supposed that just wasn’t meant for him. At least, not tonight.

Michael was barely just saying Alex’s name, probably to keep him from going out, when Alex smiled softly, said, “Yeah, sure,” and slipped his hand into Forest’s. He was pulled to his feet, and towards the door. Alex knew Michael had stood, furious, but refused to look back at him.


	72. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The others find out that Kyle and Alex are dating.

Kyle felt as if the past few minutes had dragged on to days. There were intervals of time he didn’t even remember, but he was restless, even more so than Guerin across from him. Kyle had never thought of himself as the kind who couldn’t sit still—he was a surgeon, after all, and surgeons needed a steady hand—but as the clock ticked, and Kyle was left stuck with a few of his and Alex’s friends between the white walls of the hospital hall, the tiles cold against his skin however he lied, nurses and doctors passing around him in a kind of blur, for he was not allowed in to handle his boyfriend’s case, Kyle felt himself slowly slipping off into madness.

Every now and then, he caught Michael’s narrowed eyes at him, and looked away, burying his face in his hands. Kyle thought, not for the first time, of his airman’s beautiful smile, his scent as they lay together after a long night of not sleeping, and glittering eyes as they raked Kyle’s body hungrily. Kyle had wanted to shout it from the rooftops, wanted to declare the moment Alex had kissed him that _ALEX HAD KISSED HIM!_ Of anyone he could’ve chosen, and he could’ve chosen _anyone_ , Alex Manes had chosen _him_. But Alex was wary. Not because he had any doubts, he assured Kyle—his expression so open and honest that Kyle believed him with everything he had—but because he was tired of everyone being involved in his personal life. Kyle supposed that was partly his fault—he had been one of the few, nearly a year ago now, to voice his guess on Michael being the one Alex was interested in. Apparently, he hadn’t been the only one, and Alex confirming the guesses had done very little to change some people’s approach towards the cowboy.

Alex was still broken over that, what Michael and Maria had done, how they had gone behind his back and dismissed his feelings so easily, and Kyle knew there would always be a part of him that was broken for it. It was because of that that he agreed to keep their relationship a secret, at least for a while.

And for a while they had pulled it off, but then Alex had suddenly collapsed in the bunker—no warning, no sign of fatigue—and Kyle had panicked. And Michael, he was sure, had noticed.

“Would you _stop_ pacing, you’re making me dizzy!” Michael snapped, and Max and Liz looked up. It was well past the middle of the night, and everyone was exhausted.

“Sorry, I’m actually worried about him,” Kyle said. “What, now that you’ve found someone else, it feels stupid for anyone to actually care about what happens to him?”

Michael was on his feet in an instant. “You know that if Alex wasn’t everything to me, he wouldn’t be in there right now.”

“Great,” Kyle scoffed, trying not to think of how passionate Michael sounded. What did it matter if he still loved Alex, if Alex _was_ everything to him? He was everything to Kyle, too, and at least Kyle showed him how much he loved him every day. At least Kyle deserved his love. “So you piss off some alien, and to get back at _you_ , he puts Alex in a coma. Why doesn’t that make me feel better?”

“Guys, stop it,” Max said as he stood, pulling Liz up beside him. “Arguing isn’t going to help Alex right now.”

“ _Nothing_ will help Alex, because no one knows _what’s wrong with him_!” Kyle snapped, then turned to Michael. “Maybe if you’d actually _protected_ him like he’s been protecting you this entire time, he wouldn’t have been hurt.”

Michael at least had the decency to flinch, but Kyle didn’t care. His Alex—his beautiful, kind, brave Alex—was now stuck in a coma that none of them knew how to wake him up from, and all he’d ever done wrong was be loved by someone who never bothered confessing it.

“This isn’t happening,” Kyle muttered as he turned away from Michael, rubbing his face, horrible images and possibilities flashing in his mind mercilessly. Scenarios of Alex dying in that hospital room, of one of his organs rupturing and killing him from the inside. “Oh my—I need to be with him.”

Liz took hold of his arm with both hands, her eyes so sad that Kyle could not move another step. “Kyle, you know you can’t, they won’t let anyone in right now.”

“I don’t care what they—” Kyle was just starting to say, but never finished because right then, a doctor stepped out. She looked up from Alex’s file suddenly when everyone had come up to her.

“How is he?” Kyle asked, and his colleague shook her head, apologetic.

“Kyle, you know I can’t tell you, you’re not family.”

Kyle ran his hands through his hair, exhaling slowly as he vaguely heard Liz tell the doctor that Alex’s actual family was better off away from here.

“I’m his boyfriend,” he said, and everyone turned silent, their wide eyes on Kyle. He felt Michael’s eyes burning a hole into the side of his head, but he didn’t care. He’d apologize to Alex for blurting their secret out later, when the airman was awake and in his arms, but right now, he just had to know how he was doing. “I’m his _boyfriend_ , Nancy. _Please_ , you have to tell me.”

Nancy’s expression softened, and she looked down at the file, hesitant a moment, before she said, “There’s still nothing.” Her response was met with slumped shoulders and deepening frowns. “On the charts, he seems healthy. Nothing wrong with his brain activity, nothing with his major organs—he just… won’t wake up. Hey,” she said gently, putting a hand on Kyle’s arm and squeezing. “We’ll keep trying.”

Kyle didn’t register himself nodding, but he must have because his colleague gave him one last sad look, and walked off. As soon as the group was left alone, Michael turned Kyle around, and slammed him hard against the wall.

“Don’t ever say those words again,” he hissed. “That’s a dangerous, _dangerous_ lie to make, Valenti. Understand me?”

“Michael, let him go! _Now_!” Max ordered, and just as Michael was starting to release him, Kyle shoved him off completely.

“It wasn’t a lie,” he said, the evil part of him enjoying the look of shock and anger and _fear_ that crossed Michael’s face. Fear that he’d actually lost Alex to someone else, that Alex hadn’t sat around waiting for him to deem the airman good enough to be with. “And you can hit me as many times as you want, Guerin, _I don’t care_. All I care about is Alex, and he’s in there right now because of _you_. So how you feel about him finally moving on and trying to be happy—not my problem. You want to prove you deserve Alex more than I do? _Fix this_.”

And he shoved past Michael who was still staring at the spot where Kyle had stood as if locked in a nightmare. He needed coffee if he was going to stay awake at his boyfriend’s bedside. It was going to be a long wait.


	73. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is the son of Hephaestus, and Alex is the son of Aphrodite.

Being the son of Hephaestus, Michael was used to hard work. He had fought Cyclopes with nothing more than a makeshift knife he’d created out of paperclips, copper wire, and a nail. He had won favor with Poseidon after helping him snag a yellowfin tuna the size of the demigod himself using a state-of-the-art fishing rod that launched nets from its hook. He had even gotten a nod of approval from Athena herself when he had designed a battle-ready replica of the Athena Parthenos using bits of old machinery from an abandoned amusement park.

But there was one battle he never seemed able to win, no matter how hard he tried. People seemed to think that because Aphrodite was the Goddess of Love, then even her children _must_ be regular flirts. Perhaps hopeless romantics? Desperate to be swept off their feet?

Maybe some of them were. Hades, maybe all of them here. Except one. Because didn’t Alex Manes just _always_ have to be the exception?

Michael doubted Alex, with his head always in his computer, remembered the first time they’d met, but Michael remembered as if it was yesterday. Demigods are often subjected to a lot of hungry monsters, which meant a lot of danger, which meant that _occasionally_ , as he’s fighting, the son of the Goddess of Love might be thrown by some tentacle-bat-demon into the arms of the son of the God of Fire. He had fallen in love then.

Michael still remembered the startled look on Alex’s face, the way Michael had barely sat him on the ground before he suddenly pulled Michael in against his chest and took a swing of his sword to kill a monster that had snuck up behind them. The sky had been full of dark clouds, the smell of smoke and death was in the air, and Alex—aside from being covered in ash—had cuts along his cheek and arms. Michael had planned his proposal.

And it wasn’t as if he didn’t _try_ to get Alex’s attention, but the son of the Goddess of Love seemed to always be busy with his work.

Michael had tried the subtle approach at first, casually asking Alex if “All that work must put a strain on your relationship, huh?” to which Alex replied with barely a glance in Michael’s direction and a raised brow; “I don’t really have a boyfriend.”

Then Michael had gone for elegance, and told Alex to “Go out with me,” to which Alex responded with a cool “No, thank you” as if Michael had asked him if he wanted anything from the bakery down the street.

And the thing that really, truly _pained_ Michael was that Alex _looked_ and _felt_ like the son of Aphrodite. He had a beauty that only intensified with every passing minute. If he was cold, his cheeks and nose turned a deep rosy color. If he was sleepy, his beautiful lips formed a beautiful pout that Michael found he wanted to taste more and more every day. Alex was even beautiful when he cried, his eyes glistening as if they held constellations of their own, each twinkle its own story that Michael was eager to learn of.

Sometimes, _sometimes_ , Michael got the feeling that maybe Alex could love him, too, but with every “Go out with me,” Michael was met with yet another “No,” and his heart shattered a little more, in a way he would not confess his heart could shatter. For he was the son of Hephaestus, and while he smelled like dirt and sweat most of the time, he wasn’t unpopular with women. He was the ‘Enjoy the Night While It Lasts’ kind of demigod. But then he would see Alex, or hear Alex’s voice, or feel a brief touch of Alex’s fingers against his own, and his rules no longer had any place. A world where Alex wasn’t his—all _his_ —no longer made any sense or mattered.

But it was fine. But not really. But what Michael actually meant by that was that he had learned to live with the torture. At least, he thought he had until he walked into Alex’s cabin one day, dumped an armful of roses on Alex’s coffee table, demanded—once again—that Alex go out with him, and Alex had curled in deeper on himself from where he had been lying on the couch, his back turned to Michael, and said in a very hoarse and very raw voice, “Not today, Guerin.”

Michael’s smile faltered. He had heard “No,” had heard “Go away,” and even the dreaded “You’re just not cute enough,” which Alex had always said with the ghost of a smile, and a secret—albeit begrudging—invitation for Michael to come closer, and be as cute as Alex wanted him to be. This time, Alex did not sound as if he was secretly pleased to see the curly-haired demigod. He sounded like he’d been crying.

“Alex?” Alex did not respond. “Alex…”

Alex sniffled and hid his face in his couch cushion, the entirety of it breaking Michael’s heart. Michael had never cared for mending hearts—never had the skillset for it—but with Alex, he had always been willing to learn. He had wanted to be the kind of man who Alex could depend on for _anything_. It was like nothing he had ever strived for before, but then, Alex had always been the exception.

He kneeled behind Alex, and softly ran his fingers through his windswept dark brown hair (always a perfect mess; damn you, beautiful godly genes). Alex seemed to still beneath his touch, and for a moment, he was turning towards it. Then he seemed to catch himself, and turned away, away from Michael’s hold.

“Please, Guerin, we can talk tomorrow. I just want to be left alone now.”

Michael shook his head. If Alex wanted to be left alone—as he was always left alone, which was an odd thing to want, considering who his mother was—then he clearly was too upset to know what he wanted.

“I’ll sit here,” he said in barely above a whisper, resting his chin on the couch, his nose against Alex’s back, inhaling his warm scent. He wished he could take Alex apart like a clock and look at his gears, figure out what the problem was as only a mechanic could.

“Please leave,” Alex said in almost a low whine, and Michael shook his head, squeezing and un-squeezing Alex’s waist. “I’m okay, really.”

“You don’t sound okay.”

“These aren’t my feelings, they’re – Guerin, I’m okay.”

“Then look at me.”

Alex did not move, and Michael set his forehead against Alex’s back. “Whose feelings are they?”

“What?”

“You said they weren’t your feelings,” Michael said calmly. “Whose feelings are they?”

Alex turned over slowly, his red eyes watching Michael intently. “Yours.”

A lot of people liked to treat Alex like he was an idiot, or like his opinion didn’t really matter because of who his mother was. Michael supposed that was why Alex worked so hard, to prove that he was more than just the Goddess of Love’s son. That was why it caught Michael at a bit of a surprise to hear Alex talk about feelings and his empathetic powers, being such a rational and calm man that he usually is.

Michael tried not to show the electricity and warmth surging throughout his body in an instant at the tenderness in that one word.

He wiped a tear from Alex’s cheek with his thumb. “Mine?”

Alex searched Michael’s face, and his eyes filled with tears again, his brows furrowing as if he couldn’t process everything he was feeling. Michael muttered, “Oh no, no, shh, shh,” as he brought an arm around Alex’s waist, holding him close.

“You–you _love_ so deeply, I can feel it. But your heart’s so… broken. The pain of it, Guerin,” Alex’s voice cracked. “It’s killing me. How are you still alive?”

_For you_ , he almost said, or something along those graceful lines, but what ended up leaving Michael’s lips was, “My heart isn’t broken.”

It was a lie. And Alex knew it. In his defense, Michael was good at not thinking about things that bothered him, at only looking at the pros without considering the cons, but he couldn’t look Alex in the eyes and tell him he didn’t have his doubts. Michael couldn’t tell Alex he wasn’t genuinely afraid that the son of the Goddess of Love just didn’t feel that way about him, and was just too kind to tell him that truth.

Still, those were Michael’s nightmares. They didn’t have to be Alex’s.

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” Alex asked, and Michael’s grip on his sweater tightened.

“Damn, baby,” he muttered, resting his forehead against Alex’s, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “How tired are you?”

Alex wrapped his arms around Michael’s shoulders, and pulled him in, burying his face in the crook of Michael’s neck.

“I’m a jerk,” Alex said, and Michael shook his head. His beautiful Alex. “I’m such a jerk.”

“Hey,” Michael pulled back, holding Alex’s face tightly in his hands. “This is _my_ problem. Not yours. It’s not your fault you don’t love me, Alex. I’m not angry at you for it.”

Alex’s eyes fell shut, another tear escaped, and Michael felt his heart shatter to pieces. He wondered if Alex could feel that, too.

“But I do,” he said. “I love you, but I… I never thought you could actually love me.”

“You—” Michael’s brows furrowed. “You— _what_? You love me?”

“I love you,” Alex said, and he pulled away, wrapping his arms around himself as if trying to protect himself. “But… I couldn’t be sure that you felt the same.”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked, reaching for Alex because not being able to touch him now was so dreadfully painful.

“Michael,” he said, and never before had Michael heard his name said so sadly. “I’m Aphrodite’s son. I’m not an idiot to think no one’s ever been attracted to me, but I fell in love with you so quickly. I didn’t think you felt anything real for me, but I liked having your attention, and when you flirted, and when you came close to me.”

“You thought I was under some spell?” Michael never even considered that. That maybe what he felt was the Greek charm of Aphrodite, and not anything actually to do with Alex. And he found himself laughing with disbelief, moving up to Alex and holding him close to forbid him from moving away again. “My Alex, my beautiful, _beautiful_ Alex.”

“I was wrong,” Alex cried against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around him. “I was wrong, I’m so sorry.”

Michael kept repeating “My Alex” over and over into Alex’s hair, running a hand up and down Alex’s back as if to both comfort him, and reassure _himself_ that Alex was in his arms, that he wasn’t dreaming, that he finally got to touch him like this.

“I’ve hurt you so much,” Alex said. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Forgive you?” Michael pulled him in deeper until he could feel Alex against his very heart. He had never been the only one suffering, the only one whose heart was breaking. He wondered what went through Alex’s head whenever Michael asked him out, told him he loved him. Did he just think Michael was lying? That maybe he didn’t really _want_ to be with him? Michael had always thought that being a child of the Goddess of Love was a gift, to have all that beauty and wonder about you that no one could resist you. Now he could see he had been terribly wrong. How could Alex have ever handled it? Never trusting that someone could love you for _you_.

“What do you want me to say? So you’ll believe how much I love you?” he whispered. “I’ll do anything, Alex. Just believe that I love you.”

Alex exhaled slowly, then, with timid fingers, reached up and lightly took Michael’s jaw. Michael felt his heart thrashing wildly in his chest as Alex took his lips with his own. At first, he didn’t dare react beyond pursing his lips, then he felt Alex begin to pull back, and part of him panicked. Panicked that Alex was pulling away at all, that he was hurt at Michael’s lack of response, that he would stop kissing Michael.

So Michael grabbed Alex’s shoulders and pushed him down on the couch, hovering above him and kissing him hungrily. He had known Alex’s lips were soft, but he never could’ve imagined that he felt _this good_. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, putting his hands on Alex’s waist, hesitant. Would he be allowed to touch more of him? To run his hands up Alex’s sweater, down his pants, to feel his chest, his stomach, _everything_?

He didn’t know, but if he wasn’t, it didn’t matter. This was enough. To have Alex so close was enough. For now.

When they pulled back to breathe, their foreheads rested together, Michael opened his eyes slightly, and took in Alex’s face. He felt pride swell in his chest at the look Alex had on; the immense pleasure and peace that overtook his expression.

“Can you tell what I’m feeling?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Alex breathed. “I can feel it so strongly.” He opened his eyes, holding Michael’s own. No one had ever made Michael feel as if he was on a cloud, had ever wrung so many emotions out of him at once, had overwhelmed him with so much love that Michael didn’t know how to begin to handle it, but made him excited to try. But then, Alex was always his exception.

“Touch me, Michael,” Alex begged, giving him all the permission he needed. So Michael did.


	74. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael calls Alex broken.

_“What about Alex?”_

_“What_ about _Alex?”_

_“Do you have any idea what this’ll do to him? Guerin, I thought you were supposed to love him!”_

_“Look at him, Valenti, he’s_ broken _! Who could ever love him?”_

Alex let his eyes fall shut, pushing the voices out, left alone in the silence of his bedroom, his face in his pillow as he lie stomach down on his bed. What time was it? How long had he been sleeping? He couldn’t remember doing anything but plopping onto his bed the second he’d arrived at the cabin. Even now, Buffy nuzzled his fingers with a whimper, as if begging him to confide in her, to tell her what was bothering him so that she could chase it away. Alex was sorry. He didn’t really feel like talking.

He wished he could fall back to sleep, but he supposed he’d been in bed too long because try as he might, he couldn’t drift off again.

Buffy whimpered, and Alex slowly looked to her, but was unable to lift more than a finger. His bones felt like lead, the air around him felt thin and hot, as if there was a furnace inches from his face. He remembered the look on Michael’s face when he’d turned and saw Alex at the bunker door. Alex had not been shocked to hear the words. On the contrary, he’d been waiting for them. After he’d lost his leg, more and more people distanced themselves from him, he was approached less and less. Admittedly, after a while, he had thought that maybe Michael hadn’t seen him differently, that maybe he hadn’t been repulsed by what had shattered, what was no longer there, but no. Alex had been right the first time.

His phone rang, and his eyes went to the vibrating gadget on the nightstand. Without picking it up, he knew who it would be. He had no idea why Michael would be calling. There wasn’t anything left to be said, was there?

_Who could ever love him?_

He let the phone ring, sighing deeply into his pillow. He wished he could get up, but then wondered what he would do if he could. Kyle would be unable to help but treat him with pity, he didn’t really talk to Maria and Liz anymore, and Isobel was Michael’s sister. He didn’t really feel like working on Project Shepherd files today, and he’d finished his military work days ago.

He eventually pushed himself up to give Buffy a walk, and saw that the sun was barely rising. So he’d been asleep since noon yesterday. There was nothing but his beagle’s pants as she ran along the dirt road, the tree leaves ruffled in the wind, the birds chirped. Nothing seemed amiss, there wasn’t any impending apocalypse on the horizon. The worst he ever thought could happen had happened, and the world was still turning. Alex didn’t know what to make of it.

He got back to his phone still vibrating on the nightstand. Wordlessly, Alex unleashed Buffy with a pat to her head, picked up his phone, and blocked and deleted Michael’s number. He stared at the silent screen a moment, then shut it off, and put it down. He fell back onto his bed, and now that they were back inside with the warmth, he felt his prosthetic poking into his leg. A tear fell down the bridge of his nose as he stared at the wall, his face half obscured by the pillow.

It hurt, the prosthetic. Alex had grown used to chronic pain, learned to accept that it was something he would have to live with for the rest of his life. Yet he never complained. He wondered if Michael knew that. He wondered if Michael had known, whether or not he would’ve been a little kinder with his words. As Alex sniffed, the prosthetic hooked onto the edge of the bed, and pulled painfully at his leg. Another tear fell. He would have to remember to take it off before he fell asleep again.


	75. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds out that Alex's date left him because of Alex's leg.

Michael wished he could say he was being mature about this. But the truth was he really, _really_ wasn’t. He sat in the bunker with his legs crossed over the desk, counting the minutes as they passed, his fingers tapping against his arm to the seconds.

Some might say that Michael had found any excuse to go see Alex at his cabin at the same time he’d heard from Liz that the airman would be leaving for a date. Alex had been startled to see him, but had been as gracious and polite as ever. He reacted no differently than he might have if it was Max that had gone to see him.

Michael shut his eyes. What was the good in thinking of that now? Alex had been out on a date. For hours. Michael had files to look through. He didn’t care if Alex was out with some other guy. In fact, he _hoped_ the airman was having the time of his life. (Except, of course, that that was a lie, and the darker part of Michael secretly hoped Alex hated having gone out at all.)

When the bunker door opened, Michael very pointedly did not stand. Alex was faced ahead, his expression a mixture of disturbed, tired, and unreadable as it always was when he stepped in here. Michael wanted to study the look, decipher the kind of night the airman had had, but he couldn’t afford to be caught staring.

“Oh, hey,” he very casually said after what he felt was the proper waiting time. “How was your date?”

“Fine. Did you ever look over the 1950 file?”

Michael blinked.

“Uh – yeah, I did. Nothing conclusive.”

He knew he and Alex weren’t best friends, but he had thought they were both going to make an effort to _talk_ about this stuff. Admittedly, Michael thought being shot in the foot was a lot more merciful than hearing about Alex’s dates, but he wanted to be the kind of person Alex could talk to. He _had_ to be. How would he ever win Alex back if the airman couldn’t confide in him?

“Did you… have fun?”

“Mhm.”

Michael tapped his finger against his file. “Where’d you go?”

“Movies.”

“You get cold?”

“Nope.”

“What movie did you watch –”

“Are you done?” Alex finally said. He was smiling, as if amused, but there was an unmistakable weariness in his voice. He nudged his chin at the files on the table in front of Michael. “Don’t you have something more important to think about than my date?”

Michael stared. If it had been anyone else, he might’ve gone back to reading, might’ve shrugged it off, but this… this was _Exhausted_ -Alex. The kind of Alex Michael only saw when the airman was disappointed, and was trying not to show it. Something was wrong.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” Alex hummed, typing away at some complex coding as he kept his back turned to Michael.

Michael considered Alex’s behavior as he considered everything that mattered; reasonably and logically. It was not a method he used often, but Alex was upset. If ever his unused genius was needed, it was now.

He stared at Alex as the equations and theories ran through his head in an instant. “Alex,” he tried, his voice low. “Did he… not show up?”

Alex’s fingers stilled on the keyboard, and just as Michael was telling himself that he’d cracked the code, that he’d kill whoever decided to stand Alex up, and then questioned the irony that made _him_ want to kill someone for _not_ dating the airman, Alex turned his chair.

His head was tilted, his eyes on the floor, his hands folded between his legs. He leaned back in his chair with a long sigh, and to Michael’s surprise, he didn’t seem angry or annoyed. He was just… _sad_.

“He showed up,” Alex said, then cleared his throat. “Then, uh, he left.”

Michael raised a brow, his thumb digging against his arm. “Oh?”

Alex nodded, and said nothing else. He wasn’t completely here, Michael realized. He was still reliving whatever had happened on his date. Michael used the airman’s distraction to look him over. He had no hickeys, his clothes didn’t look rumpled, his hair looked windswept, but not as if someone had run their hands through it. His cheeks weren’t red, but instead he looked like he was going to be sick, despite the small smile at his lips that looked anything but genuine.

It was as Michael looked him over that he noticed Alex’s hands weren’t folded. The airman was subtly pressing his fingers into his right leg as if it ached. Michael stared. _He showed up. Then he left._

_Oh._

When he looked up at Alex, he saw the airman looking back at him. Michael hated this. He had thought he wanted Alex to have a terrible time, but he hadn’t wanted anything like _this_. He wanted a bad kisser, he wanted annoying jokes, the more selfish part of him wanted a, _‘He’s not you, Guerin.’_ But this was the worst thing that could’ve happened, this was something that could’ve killed Alex, this…

Michael stood. “I’ll kill him.”

“Guerin,” Alex shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not _fine_ , what’d he say to you?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” he said, as if that was supposed to _comfort_ Michael. Instead, it made him nauseous. “It’s _fine_ , it’s okay. I’m not mad or anything.”

“ _Alex_ –”

“You only say my name when you’re mad at me,” Alex muttered, as if to himself, and huffed a chuckle. Then, louder, he said, “It’s actually kind of reassuring. Look, I’m only telling you because it’s embarrassing not to. I’m not ashamed of anything, Guerin.”

But even as he said it, he couldn’t meet Michael’s eyes. Michael’s hands tightened to fists at his sides, and he stormed up to Alex. Before the airman could ask what he was doing, Michael gripped the armchairs, caging Alex in.

“Go out with me.”

Whatever Alex had expected Michael to say, he had apparently not expected that.

“W-what?”

“ _Go out_ with me, Alex,” he repeated. “Date me. We can go now, let’s go now.”

Alex’s expression hardened. “That’s not funny.” He tried to stand, but Michael put his hands on his shoulders, keeping him down.

“I’m not laughing,” he said. “Alex. I _hated_ that you went out with someone else tonight. I would’ve hated it if you’d gone out with _Valenti_ , I hate anyone that tries to date you.”

“You’re going too far, Guerin, I told you already, I’m not upset, I don’t need you to do this!”

Michael clenched his jaw. “ _Damn it_ , Manes, you’ll always be impossible to talk to.” He took Alex’s face in his hands, and pulled them close enough that his lips were a mere few inches from the airman’s. “Listen to me. I love you, okay? _I love you_. I’d _marry_ you right now if you’d let me, but since I know you have to have everything your way, I’ll settle for a date for now.”

Alex searched his face, his brows furrowed as if trying to find the lie. It was pointless. Michael had never been so honest in his life.

Alex suddenly swallowed, and turned away. Michael pressed his forehead to Alex’s back.

“Private, you’re gorgeous. I love all of you _so_ much, it hurts. Even if you say no after this, you have to know that. Please don’t say no,” he finished on a whisper.

Alex stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “I, um… I-I’m really tired. I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

He walked past Michael who was staring at the empty space where he’d been seated. He hadn’t, he realized, really expected Alex to leave him. He turned, not knowing what he would say, only that he would chase Alex to his cabin if he had to get him to say yes, and no sooner had he done it than Alex wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in for a hug.

Michael stilled. Alex had never hugged him before. But as he felt the airman’s chest, rapidly rising and falling against his, as he felt Alex’s warm cheek against his own, as he felt Alex’s lips against his shoulder, Michael hugged him back with both arms, wondering why they had never thought to do this before.

Alex was so _warm_ , his body so toned, and he and Michael were the same height, so Michael could burying his face in the crook of Alex’s neck so easily.

“Thank you,” Alex breathed into Michael’s shoulder. Alex sounded… relieved? As if he’d been afraid that Michael would agree with his date, that he wasn’t worth loving because of what he’d lost.

Michael held him tighter, shut his eyes. “ _Baby_ ,” he whispered against Alex’s skin, and the word seemed to wake Alex up.

He stirred in Michael’s hold, and Michael thought that holding him tightly enough that he couldn’t breathe would keep him still, keeping him hugging Michael, and for a minute, it really looked like it was going to work. Alex settled into his arms with a deep, silent sigh, and Michael held onto him.

Eventually though, Michael had to let him go, and as soon as he did, Alex patted his shoulder, and left so quickly that Michael couldn’t even see the look on his face, though he guessed that was intentional.

As he was left alone in the bunker, Michael imagined seeing Alex again tomorrow. He imagined the airman taking his seat and continuing his work as if Michael had never confessed his love for him. He would be giving Michael an out; _I’ll pretend you never said anything. I’ll spare you having to actually go out with me. I won’t let either of us suffer like we used to._

_Screw that_ , Michael thought. He would ask again tomorrow, and if Alex didn’t show up, he’d go to his cabin. He’d give his airman tonight to breathe, then tomorrow, Alex was _his_.


	76. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael shows up drunk on the night Alex has a date, and Kyle defends him.

Kyle looked up from his phone, and smiled. Alex was still fixing his white button-down collar in the mirror, running his hands through his hair nervously. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Alex so nervous, the last time he’d seen Alex care so much. It was a good thing.

“Manes, you look fine,” Kyle said, not without some amusement in his voice. “I promise you he’s gonna be blown away.”

“Ha ha,” Alex said distractedly. _Of course_ , Kyle thought. Alex would never take any complement seriously. He wasn’t good at that kind of thing.

Kyle stood with a sigh, and patted Buffy who was circling her owner as if checking to make sure he had everything he needed to be safe.

He wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist, and hooked his chin over the airman’s shoulder. “Don’t you trust me? Your best friend? You partner? Your _brother_.”

Alex huffed a laugh, his concern visibly melting away as he reached back and ruffled Kyle’s hair. “I trust you fine, Kyle. It’s _him_ I’m worried about.”

“No one’s proposing tonight, Alex,” Kyle said, and moved to leaned against the wall beside the mirror, crossing his arms. “It’s just a date. Try to have fun.”

“Fun,” Alex muttered to himself. Kyle wondered how long it had been since he tried doing anything fun, since he’d made the time for it. He couldn’t blame him.

With Guerin on one end, his family on the other, and Project Shepherd in his head all the time, Alex had barely the time to breathe this past year much less take a whole night off.

“It’s going to be hard,” Kyle said softly, and Alex stilled. “Because, you know, you’re _you_ , and you make everything needlessly complicated. But it’ll be worth it.”

The corner of Alex’s lips tugged upward into a half-smile. His hands fell from his necklace, and to his sides. “Now who’s worried?”

“Shut _up_ ,” Kyle hit his shoulder playfully, then pulled him back in, fixing his collar and unbuttoning the first button of his shirt. “You have a hot chest!” he said when Alex tried pulling away from him with a laugh. “Show it off!”

Then there came a knock, and Kyle frowned. “I thought you were meeting there?”

“We are,” Alex said with a similar furrow of his brow before he went to open the door to reveal Michael Guerin leaning on the doorframe, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth spreading into a slow grin.

“Hiya, Private,” he said with a mock salute.

“Guerin,” Alex breathed, and stepped aside as Michael walked in. He was stumbling slightly, and Kyle saw that he had a nearly empty bottle of beer in his hands.

“He’s drunk,” he said with a slump of his shoulders. _Damnit, Guerin_ , he thought. Not tonight.

“And you’re here,” Michael said with narrowed eyes at Kyle, though whether that was because Michael was angry to see him, or he was struggling to see him at all, Kyle didn’t know. “ _Why_ are you here?”

“Guerin, uh –” Alex glanced back at the open door as if expecting someone to come in and catch them in the act. “What’re you doing here?”

Michael twirled to face Alex, arms up. “I’m here to see my guy. Why? Are you not happy to see…” Michael blinked several times, and he must’ve finally taken in Alex’s appearance because he said, “Are you going somewhere?”

Alex looked away, patting down his black blazer as if self-conscious. It just occurred to Kyle that Alex may be nervous most about what Michael will think of him now, whether he’d be happy for him, whether he’d be encouraging, then Kyle wondered if Alex really wanted that at all. Kyle stood straighter, suddenly hoping that Michael would be insanely careful with what he said next.

_Please just give him tonight_ , Kyle thought. _Please let him just have this._

Then Michael scoffed, and Kyle could _see_ Alex’s defenses fall. “Well, that’s good. That’s great. Private Manes, out on a date.”

“Okay, Alex,” Kyle walked past Michael, ignoring him, and turned Alex around by the shoulders, pushing him towards the door. “Go, I’ll handle this.”

Alex said nothing as Kyle handed him his wallet and phone, but he looked to Michael over Kyle’s shoulder, and before he could even _think_ of sending something as stupid as a silent apology, Kyle blocked his view of the cowboy and said, his voice low, “You’re gonna be late. _Go_ , Manes. Don’t you trust me?”

“He can’t drive back,” Alex was starting to say, but Kyle was already nodding.

“You have a spare room,” he said. “I know.” Even though it would kill Alex, even though it’d make him hesitate at the door of his own cabin to know Michael was sleeping here, waiting for him, Alex still thought of Michael’s safety first. Kyle didn’t know whether to love that, or be eternally exasperated by it, or both.

After closing the door behind Alex, Kyle waited until he heard a car engine turn on, then waited until Alex drove away before he turned to Michael, glaring.

“Can’t you let him enjoy anything?”

“Is he cute?” Michael asked with a humorless smirk. “Was he in the military, too? Don’t tell me, he has a piercing.”

“You’re such a dick,” Kyle shook his head. Buffy was nuzzling Michael’s leg, as if he was her owner’s most prized possession, and she wanted to make sure he was still in one piece. It was the one thing keeping Kyle from decking him.

He wished Alex didn’t care for Michael as much as he did (hell, didn’t _love_ him), but he did, and even though sometimes all Kyle wanted to do was shove him out, to tell him that Alex didn’t want him around, he couldn’t. He didn’t think Alex would ever forgive him if he did. And he was done disappointing Alex.

“Who is he?” Michael asked even as Kyle stepped into the kitchen for a bottle of water. “Do I know him?”

“No.”

“When’d he ask Alex out?”

“This morning.”

“This _morning_?”

“Yeah, Guerin,” he sighed. “He came into the Crashdown Café, said he saw Alex at the bar a few times before, and asked him out. Alex said yes. Is that all?”

“Said yes?” Michael said, apparently oblivious to Kyle’s tone. “Just like that?”

Kyle leaned his hip against the counter, and made a show of thinking hard. “Well, actually, now that you mention it, he _did_ offer to sacrifice a raven at the altar, but there were a lot of people around, it was hot, and –”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“I don’t know, Guerin, is this supposed to be you not caring?”

“I _don’t_ care,” Michael sneered. “I just think it’s a little unfair that I get the damn _silent_ _treatment_ for _months_ , but Alex can just go out with other people, and it’s fine.”

Kyle tried not to let the anger rise in his chest. “Yeah,” he said. “Because you going behind his back and kissing his best friend, and him going out with some random guy after – as you pointed out – _months_ of crying himself to sleep, that’s the same thing.”

“You – I… you don’t even know what you’re talking about.” Michael waved him off, though Kyle couldn’t help but notice that the cowboy could no longer look him in the eye.

“And you’re drunk, so anything I say to you now is a waste of breath,” Kyle said, moving past him.

“You know where everything is,” he said, grabbing his keys off the coffee table. “I’m headed home. Tell Alex to call me when he gets back.” And just so he _knew_ Michael would be upset, just to satisfy that small bit of darkness inside him, he stopped at the door and said, “I want to hear all about his date.”

Kyle was sure something like a glass or plate had smashed against the door when he closed it behind him, and he heard Buffy bark, as if scolding. Nothing broke after that. Nothing that Kyle could hear anyway.


	77. Malex & Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex gives Michael the spaceship piece back.

“You can do this, Manes.”

Alex’s lip curled in a half-smile for barely a second before it fell apart. He felt Kyle’s hand take his.

“You scared he’ll be mad?”

Alex swallowed, staring at the airstream from inside his car. He suspected that Michael already knew he was here, but was waiting for the airman to come out before he stepped out of his trailer to face him. Alex knew that, as usual, he’d have to make the first move.

“No,” Alex said, clutching the wrapped spaceship piece in his lap tightly. “I’m scared he’ll be disappointed.” He realized what he said too late, and looked over at Kyle to see him smiling sadly. “Sorry, I mean –”

“It’s okay,” Kyle said. “Alex, I think a part of you is always going to love Guerin. I knew what I was getting into from the beginning, and I don’t regret it. Do you?”

Alex didn’t even need to hesitate before he leaned over to Kyle’s seat, releasing the glass a moment to cup Kyle’s jaw and kiss him.

“Never,” he whispered, and tried to move back, but Kyle had a firm hold on his waist, keeping their foreheads pressed together.

“Do you want me to come down with you?”

Alex shook his head, and pecked Kyle’s lips once before he returned to his seat, the pressure on his leg too much. “I have to do this alone. I can take it.”

Kyle nodded as if to say, Yeah, you can, and Alex tried for a grateful smile before he stepped out of the car. It was as he had expected; just as the door shut behind him, the airstream door opened, and Michael walked out.

Alex clenched his jaw, his back kept to Kyle to keep the doctor from seeing the way his smile had fallen away. He hated it. He hated how much harder it was to smile around Michael now.

“I take it this isn’t a social call,” Michael said with a humorless smirk as Alex approached, glancing over the airman’s shoulder at Kyle in the car. Alex was sure that by now, Kyle had put in his earphones and was listening to music, as Alex had asked him to do. He couldn’t control what Michael said, what hurtful things he might come up with, and he would’ve preferred that Kyle didn’t hear any of it.

“Not really,” Alex said, hugging the spaceship piece close to his chest, the edges digging into his palms painfully even through the fabric that covered it.

Michael seemed to notice Alex’s tone, and focused his eyes on him and the package. “What’s going on, Alex?”

Alex swallowed, and began to hand over the piece before he pulled it away again. “Before you take this,” he said, surprised at how nervous he actually sounded, “just know that…”

He shook his head, and Michael’s frown deepened, concern visible in his eyes even though he would not step any closer to Alex. He wasn’t a monster, Alex knew that very well. But he wished Michael just once _acted_ on how he felt instead of keeping everyone, the airman included, at arm’s length.

Alex finally handed it over with trembling fingers, and Michael took it, confused. When he peeled back the blanket, and saw the large multi-colored glass, he froze. He let the fabric fall to the ground, staring at the spaceship piece a moment before he looked up at Alex, his eyes flashing.

“What the hell is this?”

Alex couldn’t help it. At the sound of the venom in Michael’s voice, he stepped back. “The… the last piece you –“

“I know _what_ it is, Alex, but why do _you_ have it?”

“I found it in Jim Valenti’s cabin,” Alex said. “He left it for me. This was before I knew that you needed it though.”

“And after I told you? What was your excuse then?” he stepped closer to Alex, and the airman flinched. Michael stopped, hurt flashing across his face. Alex hated that. He didn’t have the right to be afraid now. He had to brave, if only for Michael.

Alex shrugged helplessly, his voice unable to help but break as he said, “I didn’t want you to go.” Michael stilled, and Alex wiped his face roughly. “Guerin, y-you were talking about leaving the planet, and I-I freaked out, okay? I freaked out, and I did something really bad, and I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

“So you thought you’d keep me here? You know how hard it’s been for me, Alex, you _know_ I wanted to leave more than anything, and you _kept_ me here!”

“I loved you,” Alex tried, “I-I didn’t want you to leave, I’m sorry, Guerin, I’m so sorry!”

“And what’s _he_ here for?” Michael asked, his voice quiet as he gestured with his chin at Kyle. “Backup? What, are you scared I’m gonna _hit_ you, Private?”

“No, _no_ ,” Alex stepped closer, reached up to hold Michael’s face, hesitated, and let his hands fall. “Guerin, he knew I wanted to come give it back, he knew how nervous I was, a-and he wanted to help.”

“But you guys are together now, right?”

Alex opened his mouth to answer, and stopped. Michael nodded, his smile tight and cold.

“Oh, that’s great, Private. So that’s what this really is?” he held up the glass. “You can give it back because you’ve found someone else? Nice to know you’re getting rid of me, too.”

“ _No_! Guerin,” Alex followed him as he turned back to the airstream. He put his hands on Michael’s shoulders to keep him still, then moved away when he realized how close he was. “The guilt of hanging onto that stupid spaceship all these months has been _killing_ me, okay? I couldn’t sleep or eat, I was tired and miserable _all the time_. I wanted to give it back before Kyle, before Maria, before _any_ of it!”

“I don’t believe you,” Michael said, but Alex knew his cowboy too well. He knew Michael believed him fine, and if it wasn’t for Kyle, then he may have held onto Alex by now, may have forgiven him already. But Alex _would not_ give up Kyle, not even for Michael’s forgiveness. Kyle had been right, a part of Alex would always love Michael, but a bigger part of him belonged to Kyle now. He was prepared for Michael to hate him for that.

“Please, Michael, don’t do this,” Alex begged, his eyes filled with tears. _Please don’t hurt me just for the sake of hurting me, please don’t pretend you hate me just so I could suffer, please don’t punish me for loving someone else._

“You know,” Michael said, looking away, proof that he could not bear to see Alex cry. “I thought you were supposed to be better than your dad.”

And Alex was sure after that moment that the wind was still blowing through the trees, that the birds were still chirping, that he was still breathing, but… he couldn’t hear any of it. All he knew was Michael was standing before him, eyes wide at the ground as if realizing what he’d said. But it was too late. He had known Michael wanted to hurt him… but he never could’ve imagined that the cowboy wanted to kill him.

He felt a tear fall down his own shocked face as he dejectedly moved past Michael to the car, to Kyle who had noticed the look on his face and was sitting straighter in his seat, his brow furrowed as he pulled his earphones out. Michael did not turn around.

“What happened?” Kyle asked, but Alex said nothing as he turned the engine on, and drove out and away, towards the main road.

When he could no longer see the junkyard in his rearview mirror, he reached over and took Kyle’s hand.

“Alex…”

Alex knew he was squeezing unbearably tight, another tear escaping. Alex couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. _I thought you were supposed to be better than your dad._

They were stuck at a stoplight, the light turned green, and Alex broke down. He couldn’t hear the sound of his own sobs, but felt Kyle’s arms wrap around him tightly, Kyle’s heart as it beat against his ear, Kyle’s fingers raking his hair soothingly, attempting to calm him down. He felt nothing but Kyle, and heard no one but Michael.


	78. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forrest proposes to Alex.

Michael had grown up with nightmares every night. It was hard not to, with the life he’d had. But he never thought his worst possible nightmare would visit him in the day, in the shape of a blue-haired, blue-eyed hacker named Forest. Down on one knee. In the Wild Pony. Proposing to the love of both their lives.

Alex hadn’t noticed Forest kneeling at first, but at everyone’s shocked stares, the airman looked over his shoulder curiously, and stood with a gasp.

“What are you doing?” were the first words to leave his mouth.

Forest, undeterred, held up the silver band higher. He asked the question Michael had only ever briefly imagined himself asking, and feared – genuinely _feared_ – the answer Alex would give. He found himself reaching for the hem of Alex’s jacket, his fingers trembling.

_Say no_ , he thought. _Please, Alex, please say no._ But that was not what Alex said. He didn’t say yes either.

“I don’t think you know what you’re doing,” was what he answered with, and Forest’s face had filled with disappointment for only a split second before his resolve seemed to strengthen. He got to his feet, and stepped closer to Alex. “Come on,” he urged when Forest kept asking him why. _Why_ won’t Alex believe that he can be loved? _Why_ doesn’t Alex like himself enough to believe that he can be happy? _Why_ would Alex say no when Forest _knew_ that he wanted so badly to say yes?

Alex was taking a restless Forest out of the bar to talk, and Michael was already on his feet.

“Don’t,” Maria warned, grabbing his sleeve. “It’s a private conversation, Michael.”

Michael didn’t care. He yanked his arm out of Maria’ grasp, and ran to the door.

Michael rushed out, nearing the end of the building. He stopped when he heard Alex and Forest’s voices, arguing. They were talking over each other, but Michael was sure of one thing; they were talking about _him_.

“I hate that guy –”

“It’s not about him!”

“ _Yes_ , it is, Alex! And I hate him! I hate him for making you think no one could ever really love you, but _I do_!”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into, okay?

“ _Don’t know what I’m_ –”

“I’m a mess, Forest!”

“You’re not a mess! You’re just not the pure angel Guerin made you think you had to be, and it’s messing with your head!”

“I’m selfish, and I get scared, and I’m –”

“Everybody’s selfish, Alex! Everyone gets scared sometimes! It’s _fine_!”

“You don’t understand what –”

“Don’t tell me I don’t understand! You think I don’t know you’ll always be in love with him?” he asked, and Alex turned silent. Michael held his breath, leaning in. “You don’t think I know that given the choice, you would pick him? But _I’m_ your boyfriend, and _I’m_ asking first, and _I’ll_ actually take care of you and love you like you deserve, so why won’t you let me?!”

Alex said nothing a moment, then, “What if you regret it? What if you end up hating me?”

Michael’s nails dug into the brick wall. Alex didn’t really think that, did he? That Michael _regretted_ him?

_My god_ , he thought. _What have I done?_

Forest scoffed. “I hate that guy, I _hate_ him. Alex, I’ll never be _anything_ like him. I – what does he drink? Beer? I’ll never drink beer again. And look, my hair’s straight!” Alex huffed what might have been a sob or a laugh. Or both. “No, really! And I’ll never, _ever_ wear blue jeans, or flannel – I won’t even _look_ at a cowboy hat!” His voice softened as he said, “I will never be him. _Never_. Marry me, Alex. You want me to kneel again? I’ll kneel again!”

“No, _no_ , stop!” Alex was laughing now, and Michael’s heart clenched. He could step out now, and stop all of this. Stop it before Alex gave his answer. But no, Alex wouldn’t really do it, would he? He wouldn’t marry someone else. He still loved Michael. Michael had more time to –

“I’ll marry you,” Alex said, and Michael’s whole world came to a horrifying standstill.

“You’ll… what?”

_I heard him wrong_ , Michael thought. _I just heard him wrong._

“When we get married though,” he said, and Michael felt his heart plummet. “Let’s leave Roswell.”

_No. No, no, no._

“Really?” Forest’s voice brightened. “Seriously? YES!” He screamed, and Michael looked around the corner to see him pick Alex up and spin him around. Alex was holding onto him with eyes shut tight and a wide smile, a smile Michael hadn’t seen in _years_.

“Absolutely!” Forest said loudly, ignoring Alex shushing him as he laughed. “We can live wherever you want! _Anywhere_! You name it!”

_No. Alex can’t leave._

“Away,” Alex said. “Anywhere, as long as it’s not here.”

_As long as it’s not with me._

Michael fell down against the wall as Alex and Forest laughed with plans. Plans to move away, plans to get married, plans to forget Michael Guerin.


	79. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on that photo of Alex at the Nobu Hotel.

“Nobu Hotel?”

Michael hooked an arm around Alex’s shoulders. The hotel building was not as tall as Michael had imagined it to be, but it was three times as wide. “Just what we need, Private. To have some fun.”

Alex looked doubtful. Though maybe it was the exhaustion from being in a car for fourteen hours. “Isn’t this a bit much?”

Michael kissed the airman’s cheek once, twice, then, “Stop worrying, Private. I told you, I took care of everything.”

What Michael _hadn’t_ told Alex was that this was his last resort to break the airman out of this dark cloud he’d been in the past few weeks. He had been typing away at his computers nonstop, his eyes glued to the screens as he decoded one secret message after another, hoping to find something. Alex was frustrated, Michael knew that. His enlistment was ending, his father’s hideaways were too well-hidden to track, and Alex was getting _frustrated_. When Alex didn’t get answers, he got busy. And when he got busy, he stopped caring about anything else; including eating and sleeping.

Alex kept squinting now. “The sun’s too bright.”

“You’ve just been cooped up in a dark bunker for a year,” Michael said, taking a black hat out of his jacket pocket, and pushing it onto Alex’s head. “There. That’ll give your eyes some shade.”

_And it looks really good on him, too_ , Michael thought fondly.

“Stop staring at me,” he said, though Michael could see his cheeks turning red. “I feel disgusting.” And Michael kissed him again before ruffling his hair, and pulling back. He grabbed the one suitcase (they were only staying for the weekend) in one hand, brought his other around Alex’s waist, and pulled him along to the automatic doors, the air-conditioning hitting them squarely across the face as they walked in.

As Michael checked them in, Alex hung back, looking around at the seashell covered walls, the wooden doors leading out to slabs of stone steps in a river. Their room was comfortable enough for the two. Alex said he wanted to shower, and went to wait outside on the balcony while Michael checked the water heat. He had come out to tell Alex that it was fine, but stopped at the doorframe. The balcony stretched out to a long, white sandy beach, a lush green forest, and an ocean so blue it looked like crystals. But that wasn’t what caught his eyes. Alex had been resting on a long chair, and within a minute, he had fallen asleep with his head pillowed on his arm.

The sun shined against his beige sweater and stubbled jaw, and beyond his soft breathing, Michael could hear nothing but the trees rustling in the wind and the waves crashing against the shore.

He felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips as he came to lie behind Alex, bringing an arm around his waist. He buried his face in the crook of Alex’s neck where his sweater had pulled back to reveal warm skin. Before Michael drifted off to sleep as well, he felt Alex’s hand cover his own.


	80. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is drunk and sad.

“Where is he?” Michael demanded before he even stepped into the cabin. Kyle wordlessly pointed to the couch where Alex was lying, singing to himself as he traced patterns with his finger at the ceiling.

Michael wanted to run to him right then, to sweep the airman into his arms and kiss him senseless, but he had to take a moment. His hand was on his chest as he tried to get his breath back. The only reason Alex was so drunk now – and no matter how much he denied it, Michael _knew_ this was why – was because the past few weeks had not been very fruitful in terms of information on Project Shepherd. After the last facility in Nashville, they had hit a dead end. And Alex did not do well with dead ends. He didn’t need to see Michael worried about him, too.

“How much has he had?”

Kyle shook his head. “I have no idea. He could barely stand when I got there.”

Michael rubbed his face, holding it in his hands for a moment. When he felt himself about to take a deep breath, he forced a smile to his lips and came to kneel at Alex’s side.

“Guerin!” Alex laughed. “I wished you’d be here, and you’re here.”

Michael clenched his jaw. “Hey, Private,” he said in barely a whisper, cupping Alex’s jaw. Alex hummed at the touch, his smile widening.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, and Alex looked up at him, his dark eyes glistening. Michael glanced to where Kyle had been standing, but the man had left, presumably to the kitchen to distract Buffy while the two men talked.

“I’m right here,” Alex said.

“Yeah, you are,” Michael sighed, using one hand to push Alex’s bangs back from his eyes, his other on Alex’s waist, underneath his jacket, as if afraid that Alex would disappear if he let go.

He traced Alex’s lower lip with his thumb. “You’re smiling. You should do that more.”

Alex bit his lower lip as if to keep his grin from widening even more, and Michael felt his heart shatter. Alex never got flustered when he was sober.

“You’re cute,” Alex said, his voice deep as if he was struggling to stay awake now. His head was rested on the armchair, his eyes already more than halfway shut. “Have I ever told you how cute you are?”

Michael pressed his forehead to Alex’s, and pecked his lips. “You’re cuter.”

“I,” Alex laughed, and as he shook his head, Michael saw a tear fall. He held onto Alex’s waist tighter. “I’m – uh… I’m tired.”

Michael nodded, pressing another soft kiss to the airman’s cheek.

“I’m sorry –”

“Don’t be sorry,” Michael whispered, and kissed him again. “Don’t be sorry, baby.”

“I –” Alex cleared his throat, as if a part of him, the part that wasn’t used to being drunk and shattered in front of anyone – even Michael – was trying to sober him up, to wake him, to tell him that he was still a soldier and he _could not_ break like this.

“What is it?” Michael asked, pushing a brown strand of hair behind Alex’s ear.

He shook his head, hiding his face in the couch cushion. “Okay,” he nuzzled Alex’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Guerin,” Alex said, his voice muffled.

“It is, it’s gonna be okay.”

“I can’t figure it out,” he confessed, and Michael held him tighter. “I don’t know what to do now.”

“It’s okay.”

Alex sniffled as he looked up at him, his face streaked with tears, his eyes red, his lips pressed in a sad smile. “No,” he said. “I have to do better. It has to be better.”

“Alex…” Michael tried, but Alex was already falling asleep. Michael pressed his forehead to Alex’s, not knowing what else to do. He wondered what it was like to be the airman, to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, even when he was drunk enough to forget who he was.

Michael shuddered as he pulled Alex so unbearably close that he was sure his grip would leave bruises on the airman’s body in the morning. How miserable his Alex must’ve been… and where had _he_ been all this time?


	81. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex reminds me of a flower.

Michael couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Alex sleep, but as he stepped into the Crashdown, the airman’s head pillowed on his arms in the booth against the back wall, his eyes closed as Max beside him calmly read his battered copy of Little Women, he felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips.

He nudged his chin at Max as he quietly slid into the booth, though he didn’t think that would make much of a difference, seeing as how the rest of the diner bustled on normally, plates clattering, people chatting, the little _ting_ of a bell echoing whenever an order was ready.

Max made a small _hum_ to acknowledge his brother, intently focused on his pages. Michael didn’t mind. He was intently focused on Alex. He rested his chin on his folded arms, his face a mere few inches from Alex’s. He watched him as he breathed softly, his cheeks flushed from having finally had some time to rest. He reminded Michael of something, and it took the cowboy only a second to think of what.

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a flower he’d plucked from the side of the road. He couldn’t tell you the name of it, or why he decided to pick it up. Maybe it was because he’d found it in the desert, amongst the sand and gravel, all alone. Despite all the odds though, it had grown, strong and beautiful.

Michael smirked as he tucked the stem into Alex’s sweater, the pink petals the same shade as the airman’s cheeks. Maybe it had just reminded him of someone.


	82. Alex x Flint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flint cares about Alex.

Flint tried to get the straw past Alex’s lips, but his brother wouldn’t drink.

“Alex,” he hissed. “Don’t be stupid. You need water!”

Alex looked up at him, eyes halfway closed, one was swollen. There was a dark purple bruise on his cheek, his lip was cut, and there was a trail of blood from his forehead down to his chin, dripping onto his already filthy shirt. Flint forced himself not to look away.

He didn’t know how long his brother had been here – he’d stopped counting after the first week – but Alex had refused any food or water that wasn’t forced down his throat.

“Come on, brother, _please_ ,” he urged. “You’ll die without it.”

“Flint,” Alex croaked. He sounded as if his throat had turned to sandpaper. “Do you… remember when we were kids…”

Flint clenched his jaw. “ _Alex_.”

“You used to have this toy airplane… that I always wanted to play with…”

“Drink the damn water.”

“I kept sneaking into your room for it… and you told me…”

“Alex, please –”

“You told me…”

Flint sighed. Alex was always so relentless, even when they were kids. “I told you to stay away from this life. I said you had a _chance_ to stay away. I didn’t want you near the Air Force, Alex, I didn’t care how good you were.”

“You were trying to… protect me.”

Flint exhaled with a shudder. He knew what Alex was trying to do. _You couldn’t protect me then, so help me now_. “But you picked up the plane anyway,” he ended up saying. “You were always so stubborn, Alex, you _always_ had to have your way. It’s always gotten you into trouble.”

Then Alex, to his surprise, smirked. “And now it’ll kill me.”

“No,” Flint said before he could help himself. “No, no, listen, dad’s – this is just – he’s angry right now, that’s all.” At this, Alex scoffed. “He’ll cool down, you know he always cools down.”

“Flint,” he shook his head weakly, a tear falling down his nose. Flint tried not to look shocked. Even when they were kids, Alex rarely cried. He never wanted anyone to know anything got to him, that he could really be hurt.

“Dad was right,” he whispered. “No one’s coming for me.”

Flint’s hand tightened on his brother’s chained wrist. He didn’t want to say he’d known it, he didn’t want to tell Alex that he was right, but he still remembered the look of shock and betrayal on his brother’s face when their dad had shown him the hidden footage of Michael and Maria a few weeks ago. Alex had apparently been waiting outside Michael’s airstream, and Michael had eventually come. Only when they saw the footage did Alex seem to realize why; Maria had turned Michael down at the Wild Pony, and Michael, dejected, had happily taken Alex instead. Alex had been his second choice.

Just the thought of it made Flint sick. He had never cared who Alex dated, but he _had_ wanted him to hide it for their dad’s sake. Now it turned out the one who had gotten his little brother shipped off to the Air Force in the first place had decided he was nothing more than a backup.

“When dad realizes… I won’t help him… you think he’ll let me go?”

Flint swallowed. “Damn it, Alex.”

Alex shook his head, his eyes cast downward. Flint knew that look too well, he and his other brothers had cast it when they realized arguing with their dad was pointless. He had just never seen it on Alex before. He had never seen him give up.

“Doesn’t really matter where I die,” he muttered dejectedly, and closed his eyes. “No one cares anyway.”

The constant _beep beep beep_ of the computers behind Flint went on, the silence overwhelming. Alex’s chains no longer rattled as he had stopped fighting against them. With his heart falling into his stomach, Flint realized his brother really had just given up.

“Alex,” he shook his brother’s arm, but Alex wouldn’t wake. Flint’s brows furrowed. “Alex?”

He pressed his fingers to the pulse in Alex’s neck. It was faint, and getting fainter. “Oh my god,” he breathed, and without thinking, he pulled a key out of his pocket, and unlocked the chains, moving them off Alex completely. He kneeled in front of his brother, and pulled him onto his back.

“Come on, brother,” he said, adjusting Alex on his back. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Their dad was going to kill him, Flint knew. He wouldn’t be happy to come back and see his favorite weapon was gone, but Flint couldn’t let him go. He couldn’t forget the misery on his brother’s face, the resignation that he was nothing to anybody. Even if it meant punishment, Flint would prove Alex was something to him, that _someone_ still cared.


	83. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael listens to Alex for once.

“Wait, hold on –”

“No, I think you made yourself perfectly clear.”

“ _Guerin_ –”

“I got it, Private,” Michael said, his surroundings blurring as he made his way to the door. Alex, though Michael had no idea how seeing as his prosthetic should’ve slowed him down, managed to block his path.

“Just _stop_ a second!”

“Move, Alex.”

“Let me explain!”

“I heard what you said –”

“I love you, okay?!”

That shut Michael up. He watched as Alex leaned against the door, panting. The airman seemed to realize he shouldn’t have been able to move as quickly as he did, and the pain was catching up with him.

Still, when Michael to reach a hand out to touch him, Alex slapped it away and glared. “And you’d _know_ that if you just waited to hear what I had to say instead of guessing the endings on your own!”

Alex huffed and limped to the couch on his own. Michael looked between him and the door, and slowly made his way over to the couch, too, sitting beside him.

Michael watched as Alex rubbed his thigh forcefully, trying not to wince as he did so. He thought of how, only a moment ago, he and Alex had been arguing. He ran Alex’s words around in his head a million times. Alex and Kyle had plans to infiltrate a kind of gala, something big to do with one of the black market sponsors of Project Shepherd, and Alex had blurted that he really didn’t think Michael should come. That he didn’t _want_ Michael to come.

Michael had lost sight then. Alex wanted Kyle at his side, and not Michael. He nodded, then turned to leave. Alex, it seemed, had panicked.

“I don’t want you to come,” Alex said slowly, pulling Michael out of his thoughts, “because I don’t know what might happen. The last time…” he took a deep breath, “the last time, you ended up going to Maria… because you just couldn’t stand the sight of me anymore.”

“Alex, that’s not –”

“Please don’t lie to me,” he whispered, unable to look at the cowboy.

Michael’s heart shattered. He tried to wonder – maybe too late now – what Alex must’ve thought as he had waited outside the airstream for hours in the cold, waiting for someone that wouldn’t show up. How much he must’ve blamed himself. Michael’s fist clenched on his lap.

“I just can’t stand the idea that I could lose you like that again.”

Michael said nothing. He didn’t think he had any right.

“Okay?” Alex said, and sighed. “Okay?”

He looked to Michael, and the cowboy wordlessly nodded.


	84. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone hits on Alex at the bar in front of Michael.

It took two seconds. Michael had barely stood to get himself and Alex a drink, and glanced over his shoulder only to see a very tall, very muscular, _very stupid_ man approaching his boyfriend.

It wasn’t like it was the first time. Michael had always known how handsome Alex was, but it wasn’t until they started dating that he realized just how many offers and one-night-stands Alex had turned down. It filled Michael’s heart with warmth to think of the way Alex always blushed when Michael asked _why_ he always turned all these men away (“You know why, Guerin,” Alex always said. “None of them are you.”), but that did nothing to still the ice in his bones whenever someone came up to Alex at a bar or the Crashdown or even the _fricking hospital_.

Michael hung back, trying to block out the rest of the chatter and the background music, and focus his attention on the man’s voice as he got to Alex. _Sam_ , his name was. What a stupid name, Michael thought. He never liked that name.

“Sorry, uh – I was just – I mean, my friends really, they’re the ones that told me to, uh…”

Michael looked around with a raised brow and spotted a small group of people giggling and waving Sam on from behind hands and drinks. He rolled his eyes.

“Did you need an extra chair or something?” Alex asked kindly, and Michael felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips. His airman never seemed to realize just when he was being hit on. He never seemed to think anyone _would_ hit on him, though Michael was sure that everyone in New Mexico but Max had come onto Alex by now. Actually, he couldn’t be too sure about Max either. His brother did outrageously funny things when he got drunk.

“N-no, um,” Sam cleared his throat. “I – I was just wondering if I could – if I could buy you a drink?”

Michael’s jaw clenched.

“Oh,” Alex said. “I’m sorry, I’m really flattered, but I’m actually here with my – _mmhm_!”

It was because Alex felt embarrassed whenever someone came onto him, it was because Michael _knew_ he felt awkward and uncomfortable about it, it was because it would be an easy escape for Alex that Michael had abruptly turned around, stormed up to the table, and crashed his and Alex’s lips together. It definitely was not because Michael was jealous, or that he wanted to prove that this delicious airman was all _his_.

He swallowed a gasp that left Alex’s lips, and tilted his head, deepening the kiss in an instant, swiping his tongue against Alex’s. When he pulled back, Alex was panting, his eyes were half-lidded and dazed, his cheeks flushed.

Michael smirked as he set two bottles of beer on the table, and took a seat beside Alex, throwing his arm around the airman’s shoulders.

Finally, he turned to Sam with sharp eyes, and felt no small amount of satisfaction when the tall man all but jumped back.

“Aren’t you done here?”

The man stammered out a quick apology at Alex and went back to his friends who were all glaring at Michael, as if he had had no right to suddenly show up. Michael only pulled Alex closer, kissing his cheek.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Alex grumbled, his cheek warm against Michael’s lips. “He didn’t know I had a boyfriend.”

Michael hummed, nuzzling Alex’s neck. “So you didn’t like the kiss then?”

“Ha ha,” he grumbled before pulling Michael in and kissing him again.

Michael wrapped an arm around his waist. He didn’t look for whoever else may have been watching, he didn’t care about everyone knowing who had taken Alex. He was too busy focusing on Alex’s lips, his hands, his scent, his warmth. He pulled him in closer.

Okay. Maybe he did, just a little bit, care about everyone knowing Alex was taken after all.


	85. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex needs Michael.

Alex was missing.

Michael tried to remind himself that the airman had run away, and had not been kidnapped. That had been weeks ago, and they had got him back safe and sound… more or less. No one had expected the alien that stormed the facility, or for Flint Manes to save his brother at the last second by sacrificing himself.

Despite it all, Michael didn’t have it in him to forgive Flint for helping imprison his people, but he hadn’t been about to tell Alex that. He had wanted to stay in the airman’s hospital room with him, but Alex had turned his back to all of them and refused to answer anyone. Even Michael. Liz had suggested that maybe he should be left alone for a bit. When Michael had come back, the window was open, the curtains flowing in the wind, and Alex was gone.

Everyone had tried calling, but were quickly discouraged when it went straight to voicemail. Michael tried to remember whether or not Alex’s phone had been destroyed in the crash. He had to be fine, didn’t he? He had to have had a good reason for leaving, though Michael didn’t voice his one concern out loud to the already worried group; that Alex had gone after his father and the rest of Project Shepherd alone.

He pulled into the junkyard, trying to reassure himself that Alex wasn’t stupid, that he wouldn’t do something so dangerous alone, that he was a strategist first and foremost, and he wouldn’t – he _wouldn’t_ – worry Michael and his friends like that.

But even as he told himself this, Michael couldn’t forget the wild look in Alex’s eyes, as if he already _was_ strategizing, as if he had been making a plan he knew would be dangerous, but he didn’t care. He had wanted someone to die, and that was all that mattered.

Michael pushed the brakes suddenly, his eyes wide as he took in the crouched figure on the steps to his airstream. It was pitch black, and the only reason Michael had decided to come home at all was because he hoped he’d have something in his bunker that he could use to trace Alex’s location. He had not expected to see the airman sitting in front of his trailer.

Michael and Alex hadn’t really spoken since he had ended things with Maria months ago. Alex did not seem to like Michael or trust him any more once he was single. Yet here the airman was, waiting for him.

His elbows were on his knees, his left leg fidgeting, his hands clenched together in front of his mouth. Michael had the feeling he was biting into his thumb.

Michael turned the car off and slowly came out, afraid that Alex would be scared away if he acted too suddenly. He stood by his truck, trying to control his breathing despite his heart hammering in his chest. Alex was here. Michael had started to think of the worst, but Alex was _here_ , safe and unharmed and _here_.

Alex looked up at him, the rest of his body having gone completely still. Michael thought he looked angry, his brows furrowed, his gaze so sharp that part of him thought the airman would pull a gun out and shoot at him now just to shed some blood and get some of his frustrations out.

Alex’s hands fell, and Michael saw that his lower lip was quivering. His angry eyes softened as they filled with tears, though his brows were still furrowed as they always did when Alex was feeling too much that he didn’t know what to do with.

A strangled sound that may have been a sob escaped Alex’s lips, and Michael didn’t know who moved toward the other first, but the next thing he knew, he and Alex were standing somewhere in the middle, the airman in his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. His nails dug into Michael’s back, and Michael held him so tightly he was sure Alex would wake up with bruises in the morning, but he didn’t care. He wrapped his arms unbearably tight around Alex’s shoulders, pulling him in even closer as his body trembled.

Michael’s eyes burned, and for a moment, it wasn’t Flint Manes that had died, but Alex’s older brother. As Michael held him tighter, tighter, _tighter_ , the night silent around them, Michael thought that at least Flint had done that. At least he’d died as Alex’s family.

*

Michael woke up first. Alex had cried himself to sleep, his cheeks still flushed, even hours later, the dark circles around his eyes prominent. Michael had texted their friends that Alex was safe, and left the calls and messages that followed ignored as he watched his airman sleep.

They were lying on top of the covers, fully clothed. Michael had not dared stand not to change after Alex had fallen asleep for fear of waking him up. Michael softy touched his fingers to Alex’s cheeks, reveling in the warmth of the airman’s soft skin.

Michael wanted so badly to kiss him. Every fiber in his body urged it. But he didn’t want to risk waking Alex, or scaring him away. Michael brought an arm slowly under Alex’s head, so slowly that he may as well not have been moving at all. Alex shifted and Michael froze. The airman inhaled deeply, and curled in against Michael’s neck, his fist on Michael’s chest, near his own lips. Michael exhaled slowly.

He look towards the spare blanket tossed over the foot of the bed, and willed it to open wide and cover Alex so that he stayed warm.

The extra comfort, it seemed, had been enough to wake Alex up. His eyes fluttered open halfway, gold specs danced across the brown as the sunlight peeking through the curtains hit them.

Michael wanted to say it was because he was still worried about Alex, and he was, but in reality, it maybe have been because he just worried Alex would leave that he curled his arm tighter around the airman’s shoulders, his other arm around Alex’s waist.

“Hey,” he said softly. Alex didn’t answer.

He looked around. Michael thought his eyes may have just stung so much from crying that he couldn’t completely open them now. “What time is it?” he croaked.

Michael risked moving Alex’s bangs from his eyes before he held onto his waist again. “Seven, I think.”

Alex’s eyes closed, then opened, then closed again. Then, the airman inhaled deeply as he forced himself to sit up, and swing his legs off the edge of the bed. Michael followed him up, his mouth open as he thought of what to say. Alex was going to leave. He was going to disappear again, and Michael had no idea how to stop him. Was he above keeping Alex here by force? Michael shook the idea out immediately. That was the absolute _last_ thing Alex needed now.

Alex looked down at the blanket as if having just noticed it was there. Michael put a hand on his arm. He couldn’t really see Alex’s face now as he sat behind him, but he couldn’t let go of the airman yet. Michael wasn’t, it turned out, above begging.

“I,” Alex shook his head. “I have to go.”

“Is this because of the blanket? That – it doesn’t have to mean anything, Alex,” Michael said. _Damn it._ Why was he so nervous? Was the dark look in Alex’s eyes, the one that, even from where he sat, gave Michael chills? Alex had looked like that at the hospital. Wild, murderous, like he was making a silent but strategic plan to kill someone. Michael feared that if he let him go now, Alex really would follow through with that plan.

“I’m sorry,” he tried when Alex didn’t say anything. “I didn’t want to freak you out, I swear, I never even touched you like that last night, I…”

Michael went silent as Alex covered his hand on his arm with his own. When he looked over his shoulder at the cowboy, his expression was sad, but kind. No sign of the cold, wild look Michael was sure he’d seen only a second ago.

“I’ll be back,” he said, his voice so soft that Michael wondered if he’d misheard. “I, um… I have to go take care of a few things.”

Michael moved closer, resting his forehead between Alex’s shoulder blades. “Stay, Alex. Don’t… don’t disappear again.” He wrapped his other arm around Alex’s shoulders. “It almost killed me.”

Alex gripped his forearm, his hold too gentle for Michael’s heart to calm down. Alex turned in his hold, and kissed his forehead. He cupped Michael’s jaw, and pressed their cheeks together.

“I want to kiss you,” Alex whispered, and Michael’s eyes fluttered shut. His put his hands on Alex’s waist, holding him in place. “But not like this.” Michael held onto him, but he managed to stand as easily as if he wasn’t being touched at all. “I’ll be back.”

And without another word, Alex turned and left, his fists clenched at his side, and whether that was because it just pained him to leave, or because of something else entirely, Michael didn’t know. And he was terrified of finding out.

*

It took a week. Michael had restrained himself for days, unable to work or take anyone’s calls. On the seventh day, he nearly broke his own door off its hinges as he decided he’d had enough. He would bring Alex back, drag him if he had to, or refuse to leave his cabin.

He had _planned_ it anyway, but as soon as he’d neared his truck, a familiar black car pulled into the junkyard. Michael’s hand stilled on his door handle.

His heart beat painfully as Alex stepped out in ripped jeans and a large grey sweater. He looked, for the first time, well-rested. His hair was still windswept, but it didn’t look as if Alex had been nervously running his hands through it all day, his cheeks were flushed, the tenseness in his shoulders had all but completely faded. All that was left that concerned Michael were his eyes. They were darker, somehow, his brows still furrowed slightly as if he was trying very hard not to get angry. It was strange, seeing Alex try to restrain himself.

Otherwise, Michael might’ve been fooled. He might’ve believed Alex was actually any better.

Michael wanted to say something clever, something funny maybe, anything to show Alex that it was okay to come closer. But all that ended up leaving his lips was, “You came back.”

Alex shrugged. “I said I would.”

Michael swallowed, scratching his thumb against the keys in his closed fist. “Are you okay?”

He smiled softly, but shook his head. He seemed to know he couldn’t lie to the cowboy.

Michael’s keys dropped from his hand, and he stormed up to Alex who, this time, kept where he was. He stopped just a few feet away from the airman, his arms up, questioning. “Can I…?”

Alex visibly swallowed. “I’m really angry, Guerin,” he breathed. “I’m _so_ angry, it hurts.”

Michael’s offer didn’t waver in the slightest. It seemed enough to break Alex, and the airman held his own arms up as well. Michael closed the distance between them, and wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist, sighing deeply into the crook of Alex’s neck as the airman hugged him back, just as tightly.

“I’ll fix it,” he promised.

Alex’s body trembled, though not as badly as it had that night a week ago, and he nodded.

Michael held him tighter. “I’ll fix it, Private.”


	86. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael tries to stop Alex's wedding.

Michael tried to pretend it was a normal day. He tried to pretend Alex’s rejection hadn’t drained him. He tried to pretend it didn’t matter, that his life hadn’t ended with Alex’s certain _“I do.”_ But it was a lie, and no matter how Michael tried to convince himself that he never really cared, never really loved him, his heart beat painfully against his chest, echoing _Liar_ with every pulse.

When Forest had first proposed a month ago in the Wild Pony, Michael had never expected Alex to say yes. When he _had_ , Michael had never expected him to ever actually set a wedding date. When that happened, too, Michael had not expected Alex to actually buy a tux. But he did. And he looked more beautiful than Michael had ever dreamed.

It was a simple tux – black pants, black jacket, white buttoned-down shirt, and a black bowtie. Michael had never imagined anyone to look good in a bowtie, but Alex made it work. There was a rose in his chest pocket, the red as vibrant as the color of Alex’s cheeks.

It was cold, Michael told himself. That was why Alex was blushing. That was why he had looked so excited.

Michael’s hands clenched on the wheel. He didn’t know what he had expected when he had showed up at the Crashdown where Liz and Maria were excitedly getting Alex ready, fussing over his hair and clothes despite Alex’s protests. They had all been laughing, as if it was the greatest day Roswell had ever seen. And the most insulting part, Michael thought as he pushed the gas pedal harshly, was that the wedding was going to be at the UFO museum. The same one where he and Alex had kissed for the first time.

Why? Because Alex and Forest had met there. As if that held a _candle_ to what Alex and Michael had shared. And Alex had not seemed to see the problem. He didn’t even understand why Michael had been so upset.

Liz and Maria had glanced at each other, then decided the two had needed a moment alone. They told Alex to hurry because they needed to go soon, Maria had glared at Michael as they walked out, as if warning him not to mess this up.

Michael couldn’t believe that _he_ was the one being treated as the outsider, as if _he_ was the one with no place at Alex’s side.

Michael had been so angry that even as Alex watched him, his smile faded.

“I thought you’d be happy for me,” he had said, disappointment coloring his tone, and Michael saw red.

“ _Happy_?” Michael had not worn a suit. He had his regular jeans on, his white shirt, his sleeveless jean jacket. He had come with the last desperate hope that Alex would call this entire joke off, but the airman had expected Michael to be _happy_ about it.

“How could I be?” he demanded. “The man I love is marrying someone else!”

Michael remembered the way Alex had turned white, but not surprised. He had known Michael still had feelings for him, but he had not expected to ever hear them, and maybe that was on Michael, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just wanted to hear the words said back to him. He wanted to know Alex loved him, too.

“This is my wedding day,” Alex had muttered, his eyes filled with disbelief. “Are you out of your _mind_?”

Michael had clenched his jaw. Not the reaction he had expected, but it was fine.

“Call it off,” he had said. He knew it sounded like a plea, but he didn’t care. “Tell them you changed your mind.”

“I’m getting _married_ in an _hour_.”

“Then don’t! Don’t get married, Alex, _please_!”

“I’m finally happy!” Alex had raised his voice. “Why don’t you want that for me?!”

“ _I’ll_ make you happy!” he had stepped closer, trying to take Alex’s hands, but the airman had flinched away from him. “I – I’ll do better this time! I promise, Alex, it’ll be great this time!”

“ _Guerin_!”

“No more stupid mistakes, no more family crap, no more looking away – just you and me, Alex!”

“Stop it, it’s too late!”

“I love you, Alex, I love you so much, please _don’t get married_!”

“GET OUT!” Alex had snapped, and Michael had frozen. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, but it had trembled. “Get out. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“Alex –”

Then Alex had hit him with a look Michael had never expected to see, not from him. He looked at Michael like he hated him.

“A—Alex –”

“ _Get. Out._ ” The words echoed in Michael’s head even as he pulled to the side of the road on the drive back and broke down beside his truck. The minutes turned to hours, and when he was finally able to breathe, he crawled back into the driver’s seat, and went on his way.

Michael tried not to think of Alex as he pulled into the junkyard, his smile, his eyes, his warmth, and how he would never feel any of that again… but it was a little hard not to think about when he saw Alex pacing in front of his airstream.

He was still wearing his tux, but the bowtie was undone around his neck, his hair was windswept, and his rose was shedding petals so that it looked like Alex’s heart was bleeding. He looked gorgeous.

Michael all but jumped out of his car before remembering he had to turn off the engine first. As soon as he stepped out, Alex shoved him.

“You had no right!” he yelled, his cheeks flushed, his eyes shining, and Michael soon realized that the glimmer he thought was hate was actually something else; fury.

“I –” he tried, but Alex shoved him back again.

“I was finally happy, after _years_ of being miserable, I was just _happy_ , and you had to ruin it!”

Michael felt his heart crawl into his throat. “Alex –”

“Shut up!” Alex walked away, then came back. “You know, Forest _knew_ I couldn’t love him the way I loved you, but he _tried_! He fought for me! What the hell have _you_ ever done?”

Michael said nothing. He didn’t think he could anyway. He was too absorbed in Alex being there, in front of him, not the wedding, _not_ getting married. His Alex. Michael had only seen him a few hours ago, but he already _missed_ him so much.

“I may have walked away,” Alex went on, oblivious at the joy surging through Michael’s heart at seeing him here. _Here_. With _him_. “I may have had my excuses, but I never chose anyone else, Guerin!”

“I didn’t choose anyone else –”

“I swear to _god_ ,” Alex threatened. Michael knew it was meant to be frightening, but he found he only wanted to laugh. His eyes burned as the beginnings of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips despite himself.

Michael knew it was his fault Alex believed he had ever wanted anyone else, but it was never the truth. There had only ever been Alex.

“How did you get here?”

Alex panted. He was still glaring, but it had softened, probably involuntarily. He huffed. “Forest. He took one look at me, and…” Alex shook his head, and Michael saw that his eyes had filled with tears. “He told me to go. I guess it just wasn’t good enough for either of us.”

“Alex,” Michael breathed. “I love you.”

Alex paced back to him. He hadn’t stopped moving since he’d gotten here. “Michael Guerin, say another _word_ –”

Michael pulled him against his chest, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He buried his face in the crook of Alex’s neck, trying to ignore the tear as it slid down his own cheek. He had been so sure he would never have this again. He tried to remember this feeling. He had to make good on his promise. He had to do better.

Alex was still fidgeting against him, refusing to hug him back. “Let me go!” he complained, but there was no real venom in his voice.

Michael held onto him tighter. “Never again, Private. _Never_ again.”


	87. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael will fight for Alex.

It had been a week since Flint died.

It had been a week since he had sacrificed himself to save Alex, a week since Michael had found Alex on his front steps, and a day since he had come back to the junkyard, saving Michael a frantic drive to the cabin.

They had lied together last night, sweating and panting against each other’s ears. Michael looked up from the alien symbols he had long since stopped studying to watch as Alex typed at his computers, his back to them.

He still remembered the look on Alex’s face when he’d woken up this morning, the airman already awake, his eyes on the ceiling, lost in thought. Michael had touched his cheek then, the question of whether or not Alex had slept at all lying on his tongue, but never making it past his lips. He longed to touch Alex now, but the airman had been so silent as they’d gotten dressed and made their way to the bunker.

He had, very unusually, barely offered Kyle a greeting, but it didn’t look like Kyle had expected one. He had stopped Michael at the door as Alex took his seat, and asked in a voice barely over a whisper, “How is he?”

Normally, Michael would have been annoyed with Kyle’s concern for Alex, but the circles around the doctor’s eyes were so dark, his gaze on Alex so fond and loving, that Michael couldn’t muster the agitation. Kyle was afraid for Alex. Michael didn’t want to admit it, but so was he.

He had merely shaken his head, said that he would take care of it – just as he had promised Alex – and the two sat down and got to work. At least, Michael was _supposed_ to be working, but he couldn’t focus at all, not with his airman working as if nothing had changed, as if his entire body didn’t stand tense, as if he hadn’t confessed, just yesterday, that he was so angry it pained him.

“Alex,” he said, not knowing what he was going to ask or do in front of Kyle. He didn’t want to ask Alex if he was okay, the airman wasn’t good at answering those kinds of questions, but his finger tapped incessantly on the table, and he was heaving a deep sigh every few minutes, and Kyle was looking at him like he _knew_ , and Michael knew that if he didn’t get to talk to Alex or touch him in some way very soon, he was going to lose his mind.

“Private,” he tried again, and Alex hummed in question.

_You want to go back to the airstream? Want me to take you home? Can I kiss you? Can I touch you?_

“Uh – I could use your help with this,” he ended up saying, and Michael couldn’t help but wince at his own words.

Alex said nothing as he stopped typing, and moved to stand. He’d barely made it to his feet before he lost his balance and fell back down into his seat.

“Alex!” Michael and Kyle were instantly at his side. His eyes were half-lidded, and despite Michael’s hold on him, Alex couldn’t seem to see anything or hear anyone around him.

“Alex, let me – Guerin, let go of him for a second – here, let me look at you.” Kyle spun Alex’s chair towards him, and held his face in his hands. Alex was nearly limp, even as Michael’s hands rested on his shoulders from behind the chair.

Kyle peered into Alex’s eyes, then checked the beating pulse at his wrist, then moved his phone’s flashlight in front of Alex to have him follow the light.

“What’s wrong with him?” Michael asked.

“Nothing,” Alex tried squirming out of Michael’s hold, but gave up quickly as Michael wrapped his arms around his shoulders, keeping the airman’s back against his chest. “Come on, let me go, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Alex, you’re not even _close_ to fine.” Kyle sighed. “Have you been taking those pills I gave you?”

Alex did not answer, his brows furrowed as if he was getting annoyed, but was too exhausted to do anything about it.

Kyle, it seemed, did not care. He stood, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Damn it, Alex,” he growled. “Even when we were kids, you always had to do things your way, didn’t you? You won’t be satisfied until you get yourself killed, will you?”

“Who are you calling?” Michael asked.

“Pharmacy,” Kyle said. “I’m ordering you another bottle.”

“I don’t want the pills,” Alex muttered.

“Too bad!” he snapped. “Yeah, hello, Dr. Wells, listen…” Kyle’s words faded as he left the bunker, and Michael ran a hand through Alex’s hair.

“What kind of pills are you taking?” he mumbled into the airman’s dark locks, for lack of anything better to say.

Alex fidgeted in his hold, and Michael released him. He thought Alex would leave, but the airman only stood, turned to Michael, and wrapped his arms around the cowboy’s waist, his head on Michael’s shoulder.

Michael was surprised, but Alex’s grip was so tight, his arms trembling, and he could do nothing but hug Alex back just as tightly.

“Please get me out of here,” Alex whispered, his voice shaking.

Michael pulled back enough to hold Alex’s face in his hands, and saw, to his surprise, that Alex was not crying. Instead, his eyes looked wild, as if it was taking everything he had to refrain from killing someone. Michael swallowed, and pulled Alex in against his chest again, kissing his cheek, his ear, the crook of his neck, his shoulder.

“Okay,” he sighed, rubbing Alex’s back. “Okay, let’s go.”

And so Michael led him out, and put him in his truck, sending a quick text to Kyle that Alex was with him. Michael drove for half an hour before he had the nerve to reach over and take Alex’s hand. Alex didn’t react. His face was turned away from Michael’s, but one look at the side mirror, and the cowboy could see that the airman was working through a thousand things in his head at once.

“Alex,” he tried, and when Alex turned to look at him, his eyes were vacant. He wasn’t going to give anything away.

He forced a smile that did not reach his eyes, and his fingers curled around Michael’s. He nodded as if to apologize for scaring him, and reassure him that he was okay.

Michael took them to the airstream, afraid that if he had taken Alex to the cabin, he wouldn’t be allowed inside. They stepped inside. Michael had just turned to ask Alex if he wanted any coffee, but before the question could leave his lips, Alex crashed their mouths together, and Michael went stumbling back, surprised.

“W – wait, Alex, what –”

“Please,” Alex whispered, already unbuttoning Michael’s shirt, his hand on Michael’s chest. “Please.”

Michael panted against Alex’s lips, the airman’s fingers scratching down his stomach.

“Please, Michael.”

His voice shook. His eyes were shut tight, as if trying to shut away the demons haunting him, and the way he held onto Michael, as if only the cowboy could keep him tethered to earth, could keep him safe and _sane_ , it tugged at something familiar in Michael’s chest. He knew what it was like to really _need_ the man he loved.

Michael took hold of Alex’s hips, and pulled back with him. He laid him down on the bed, one arm caging him in, his other hand on his jaw. “Anything you want, baby. _Anything_.”

Alex barely managed a nod, his eyes shining and miserable, before Michael lay on top of him, kissing him senseless.

They went on for hours, Alex’s hands on Michael’s waist, pulling him in deeper. Michael’s hands on Alex’s chest, his stomach, his arms, touching whatever he could reach. He stayed close so that their chests were almost always pressed together. He didn’t want to move any further away than he had to, didn’t want to put up with that distance.

“Baby,” he breathed against Alex’s lips, and more than once kissed away the furrow between the airman’s brows.

When they lay together in the end, side by side, they were panting and sweaty and soaking the mattress, but Michael didn’t care. He was staring at Alex, the airman’s eyes closed, his cheeks flushed, his lips rosy from being bitten. Michael was tempted to bite them again. Another part of him wanted to pull Alex against his chest and let the airman rest his head against his beating heart. He wanted Alex to hear how it raced for him, how it always raced for him.

He wondered what would happen if he put an arm under Alex’s head, if he tried to pull him in. Would Alex let him? Would he flinch away from him? Would he hate Michael, or would he love him for it?

Michael pressed his arm against Alex’s, glad to have that physical reminder that the airman was with him. “What’re you thinking about?”

Alex said nothing a moment, then his eyes shut tighter and he covered them with his forearm. “It’s not working,” he breathed.

Michael stilled. He knew what _it_ was.

“Nothing works,” he sat up, the blanket falling to his waist. Michael sat up slowly behind him, a hand on his back.

“Alex –”

“Nothing _works_ , Guerin, I don’t…” Alex looked like he was going to throw up. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what else to – I thought – I…”

“I know, Private,” Michael said softly, gently pressing a kiss to Alex’s back and holding him from behind. “I know.”

Alex panted, “Are you… are you disappointed?”

“No, no, baby,” he whispered calmly. “I’m not disappointed.”

Alex shook, and Michael held on tighter. “I’m scared,” he said. “I don’t know how to win this one.”

“I’ll win for you,” Michael mumbled against the nape of Alex’s neck.

“And I’m so tired of fighting.”

“I’ll fight for you.”

“I want to give up,” Alex whispered, and Michael nodded.

“Of course you do. Anyone would,” he said. “But you won’t.”

A tear rolled down Alex’s cheek. “How do you know that?”

And he looked to Michael with a kind of plea, as if begging for a reason, something to help him keep going, something to remind him of what he was fighting for. Something to convince him that he couldn’t just leave Roswell and the Manes legacy behind and move somewhere where no one knew his name, in hopes of forgetting his brother, what he’d lost – _all_ of it. He needed some _reason_ to stay and fight, to be part of Team Human, to stop Project Shepherd once and for all.

Michael shrugged as if the answer should’ve been obvious. He thought it was. “You’re Alex Manes. You don’t give up. You just _don’t_.”

Alex’s shoulders slumped, though the corner of his lips quirked up in a miserable smile, as if to say, I was afraid you were going to say that.

Michael kissed the airman’s shoulder. “But if you want to give up today, just for a minute… you can.”

Alex nodded, as if, for the first time, he could actually trust that Michael was telling him the truth. “Just for a minute.”

Michael kissed him again, pulling him back into bed. This time, he did as he wanted, and had Alex lie on top of him, their bodies pressed together, Alex’s head on his chest.

“It’s gonna be okay, Private,” Michael whispered into his hair, his hand running up and down Alex’s back. “It’s gonna be okay.”

And as Alex’s breathing calmed against Michael’s chest, against his racing heart, Michael held the airman tighter and made a silent promise. Everything _would_ be okay. He would see to that.


	88. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex just wants to see Michael before he leaves.

The ringing began quietly, then as the days passed, the calls unanswered, they echoed throughout the cabin walls alongside Buffy’s gruff responses, as if urging the person on the other end to pick up. Alex kept the phone on speaker. He knew there would be no response.

_“This is Guerin,”_ the automated voice finally came, and Alex stopped in the midst of packing, his hands on his suitcase, his shoulders slumped with a sigh. _“Don’t know how you got this number, but whatever it is, make it quick.”_

The _beep_ sounded like an execution sentence. Buffy barked once, twice as Alex made his way over to the phone. He picked it up. Enough was enough.

“Hey, Guerin,” he said, holding the phone with one hand as he looked around for his navy jacket. It was cold in New York around this time of year, wasn’t it? “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for the past few weeks, and I really didn’t want to have to do this over the phone, but… I guess it is what it is.”

He took a deep breath, shutting another suitcase. “I’m leaving Roswell. I got a job offer in New York and I took it. There’s no home for me here anymore,” he said as he picked a loose thread on his couch. He cleared his throat. “My plane leaves tonight, and I’m…” he checked the time on his phone, “just about to leave.” He tapped his thigh. He sat down. He looked around the walls that had shielded him these past two years, the shelter that had been left for him when he thought he wouldn’t get one.

He thought of Michael, his home, wondering if the cowboy was listening at all, if he would bother listening to the voicemail once he saw who it was from. Alex thought of the look on Michael’s face when he’d found out about the relationship with Maria, how he had looked at Alex as if he couldn’t see him. Just another Manes Man, meant to haunt his dreams and nothing more.

Alex knew his name would never leave him, that he would never forget that look in the eyes of the man he loved. He just hoped that, after this big change, the punishment would finally stop.

Maybe it was because of that hope, because of the fact that he was leaving and he was desperate, maybe because part of him knew Michael would not listen to what he had to say that he threw caution and permission to the wind and blurted, “I want to see you.”

He was surprised at the tremble in his voice, how his fingers shook against his jeans. Even Buffy seemed to notice something breaking as she came over, her big brown eyes looking up at Alex as if asking, Are you okay?

Alex rested a hand on her head, her soft, warm fur easing some of the tension in his stomach.

“Guerin,” he said, and cleared his throat again. “ _Michael_. I’ve never asked you for anything. I’m asking for this now. Please. Please, just… come over. Come over now, let me see you just once, and… and you’ll never have to see me again.”

He took in a shuddering breath, and confessed, “All I can think about is the way you looked at me the last time we saw each other. Like… like you hated me. I’m begging you, don’t let me leave with that. _Please_ just come over.”

He exhaled slowly, turning the phone away, then, “I absolutely have to leave in two hours. I’ll wait until the last possible second. Okay? I’m waiting.”

He hung up, and only realized later that he had been clutching the phone so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Buffy licked his hand, and Alex forced himself to let go.

With a slight whimper, her eyes on Alex, Buffy seemed to ask, What do you think?

Alex nodded, if only to himself. “He’ll come. He’ll be here.”

An hour passed, which was already more than Alex had expected, another half hour, and his heart plummeted into his stomach as he sat in the cold darkness, waiting. Ten minutes until he had to leave, and Alex realized he had better start loading his two suitcases into his car. All the furniture was draped with white sheets, everything else packed away in boxes that Kyle was going to have sent over to Alex’s new apartment once he got settled.

“Hang on, girl,” he told Buffy before she jumped into the passenger seat, his voice hollow. “Not yet. We have another minute.”

Buffy seemed to lower her head, her sad eyes on him, yet she said nothing.

Alex tapped his thumb on the hood of the car, and swallowed. “We have another minute.”

The seconds ticked by, and Alex found himself wishing they’d freeze. Michael was just running a little late. The minute passed, and no sign of the cowboy.

As a last desperate attempt, Alex pulled his phone out, his hands shaking, his heart doing a drumroll in his chest. He dialed Michael’s number. The phone rang. Nothing.

Alex shook his head, his brows furrowed, his eyes burning. “H… He’s really not coming?”

Buffy growled as if desperate to kill someone.

“No, no,” he muttered. “M – Maybe, maybe he’s on his way right now. We’ll wait another minute.”

But that minute passed, too, and so did the one after, and the one after that. It was another ten minutes before Buffy barked urgently. It was time to go.

Alex looked around, still half-expecting to see gold curls or an old truck or even a panting Michael making his way to him. But there was no one. It reminded him of something, a miserable few hours he’d spent waiting outside the airstream, expecting the man he loved to come, and never getting it.

Alex took his seat, feeling heavier than ever before, his heart like an anchor, unwilling to rise or beat again. “I really thought he’d come,” he muttered, and feeling horrifyingly numb, he turned the key, and made his way away from the cabin. Still, he drove slowly, a small, foolish part of him hoping the cowboy would stop him. He never did.

Nothing was different. The sky had some dark clouds, the leaves rustled in the wind, the desert lay silent, there was the faint sound of music and chatter coming from a few of the bars and restaurants in town. Alex, despite himself, couldn’t help but wonder what Michael was doing now. He wondered if he’d ever even read the voicemail. He stopped at a red light, pulled out his phone, and – taking a deep breath – he tried to call again.

_“This is Guerin_ ,” the automated voice responded, and Alex was left staring at the green light, his phone against his ear.

Despite it all, Alex could not help the small, sad upward quirk of his lips. “I love you,” he breathed, and maybe it wasn’t the thing to say now, and maybe Michael would hate him more for it, and maybe it was part of the hysterical laughter bubbling in his throat, but he wanted to say it. He wanted the last thing he ever told Michael to be the truth.

“I love you I love you _I love you_ ,” he said, his voice barely over a whisper, his eyes burning. Oddly enough, he didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry. “And I want you to know that even if we spend a hundred years apart, I’ll still love you with every cell in my body. And you can be disgusted that a Manes loves you, but a Manes _loves_ you, and I’ll never be sorry for that because you are the _best_ thing that’s ever happened to me, Guerin.”

He huffed a miserable laugh as a tear fell, said, “I really wanted to see you,” and hung up.


	89. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is tired.

Michael had been hesitant to leave the bunker last night, Alex’s form illuminated by the computer light as he typed away, decoding alien symbols and sharp drawings that made no sense. When he returned to the bunker the next morning to see the airman slumped over his desk, his head pillowed on his arms as he slept, he knew he shouldn’t have left at all.

He came up to the airman quietly, for a moment afraid of waking him up. He watched the way Alex’s long lashes curled against his rosy cheeks, the way his soft brown hair fell over his eyes, half his face hidden behind his arms.

Michael pulled his own chair closer, slowly so as not to wake the airman, and sat down beside him, staring at his face. The dark circles under his eyes had not lessened in the slightest, and Michael wondered how long Alex had been staring at his computer before the exhaustion finally took over. He realized this was the first time he had ever seen Alex sleep, and hesitated before reaching over to wake him up.

In the end he had to. The airman could not have been comfortable where he was. He barely touched Alex’s shoulder, all but whispering his name, and the airman woke instantly with a slight gasp, sitting up in his chair, alert and ready.

He spotted Michael, and frowned. He rubbed his eyes, his hands balled into fists, and Michael tried to ignore his heart as it jumped in his chest. Alex was not supposed to be _cute_. He was an Air Force captain with enough steel in his body to take down armies. _Cute_ should not have been the word to come to mind as Michael watched his rosy cheek puff out, his lips turned to a small pout as he rubbed his eyes awake. But it was.

“What time is it?” he asked, and Michael pulled his eyes off Alex’s lips a moment to realize the airman was talking to _him_.

“About six,” he said. “Did you sleep? Like, at all?”

“Six,” Alex muttered, ignoring Michael’s question as he pushed the bottoms of his palms into his eyes. “Okay. Okay.”

He did not move to stand, or ask Michael to hand him his things, or even try to reach for his crutches which he had been bringing a lot more often to the bunker (Michael had tried asking him about the pain in his leg, but every time, Alex would look at him a bit startled, as if to say, _You care?_ And Michael would feel no right to say anything else). Instead, and to Michael’s surprise, Alex straightened in his seat, squinted at the screen a moment as if trying to remember where he’d left off, and went back to work as if he hadn’t just passed out from exhaustion.

“Alex, uh,” he looked around, as if expecting to see someone who actually knew how to talk to the airman, then remembered that he didn’t need anyone. This was _Alex_. Who was better at talking to him than the love of his life?

He put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Maybe you should go home, get some sleep –”

“I’m fine,” Alex said thoughtlessly, waving Michael’s hands off. He didn’t seem to realize what he’d done, so caught up in his work. Michael swallowed and moved closer in his chair.

“Private,” he whispered, and Alex’s fingers stilled on the keys. “You look like you’re going to fall over. You need to rest.”

Alex sighed, and resumed working. “Seriously, Guerin, I’m fine, I’m okay.”

Michael inhaled deeply, and raised his hand to hover above Alex’s head, his fingers barely brushing his hair. He let his hand touch Alex’s head, and the airman flinched, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I…” he stepped back. “I was only trying to –”

“No, I-I’m –” Alex heaved a sigh, burying his face in his hands. “I’m just tired.”

Michael hesitated, then stepped closer, and carefully set his hand on Alex’s head again. The airman, this time, did not move away. When he brought his hands down, Michael saw that his eyes were glazed over, the rims red, his cheeks flushed.

He crouched down to meet his eyes, his hand still on Alex’s head. “Hey. You okay?” Alex nodded, staring off into the distance. “Come on, Private, take a break.” He bit his lower lip, then, “For me?”

Alex then looked at him in a way that teased, _Who do you think I’m doing all of_ this _for?_

But rather than say that, the airman looked to the computers behind him, tapped his finger on the desk thoughtfully, then with a sigh, he saved his files, encrypted them to keep them locked from anyone else, and turned the computers off.

Alex slumped back in his seat with a sigh. Michael’s hand was still on his head. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Michael was smiling.

Alex scoffed tiredly, slapping Michael’s hand off, but Michael only moved it from Alex’s head to massage his shoulders.

“So tense,” he teased, and Alex fidgeted under him, but he held on tightly.

“Get off me,” he grumbled.

Michael huffed a laugh, hugging Alex’s shoulders. The airman went rigid in his arms for a moment, but as Michael held him, his muscles relaxed. Michael rested his chin on Alex’s head. “I really want to kiss you right now,” he breathed before he could help himself.

Alex tensed again, and for a horrible moment, Michael worried he was going to push him off, but then he settled back in seat. His shoulders were still straight, and Michael wished he could kiss the tension away.

He slowly brought his lips to the top of Alex’s head, and his eyes fluttered shut as he took in the airman’s scent. He kissed his hair, and pulled him in so that his back was against his chest. If only the chair wasn’t in the way.

“Guerin,” Alex muttered, and it sounded like a warning. _Remember where we are, remember_ what _we are. Remember that we’re not supposed to do this anymore._

“Private,” he muttered back. He wasn’t going to back down now, not when he finally had Alex in his hold after months of watching him from afar, pining, yearning, desperately longing to touch him. It took Alex completely wearing himself down to finally let Michael past his walls, the walls Michael had once been able to tear down so easily, but it was worth it to touch him now.

He kissed Alex’s head again, his hands running from Alex’s shoulders down his arms.

“Gu—Guerin…” he stammered, and Michael smiled against his hair.

“Just another minute,” he whispered. “I’ll let you go… just later.” He thought Alex might object, might tell him no, but to his surprise, the tension in Alex’s shoulders faded. Michael sighed with relief.

“Baby,” he breathed, keeping his lips pressed to Alex’s head. The airman fidgeted a little, but ultimately let Michael do what he wanted. It wasn’t until his lips reached Alex’s neck that the airman stood with a stutter, and said he really needed to get some rest.

Michael watched him go, his heart nowhere near as heavy as it usually was when Alex left the room. He couldn’t help it. He smiled, Alex scent still surrounding him, the taste of him still on Michael’s lips.


	90. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is trying to read, but Michael's too much of a distraction.

“Mm… stop it. I can’t focus.”

Michael hummed against the airman’s stomach, pushing his sweater up higher. “But you smell so good.”

“I’m trying to read,” Alex turned onto his side, holding his book up in front of him, though Michael couldn’t miss the way even the tips of his ears turned bright red. Michael pressed another kiss to his bellybutton.

He stuck his tongue in and Alex gasped, almost dropping his copy of _Sense and Sensibility_. Michael grinned and bit a bit of the skin there.

“Stop, Guerin,” he breathed, shoving his shoulder, but Michael wrapped an arm around his waist and held on. “I can’t concentrate.”

“Concentrate on something else,” he muttered, taking one of Alex’s hands and pressing it to his own chest. Alex pulled away, turning over onto his stomach, his face hidden behind his book. Michael bit his lower lip to keep his smile from widening.

“Am I making you nervous, Private?” he whispered against the shell of Alex’s ear as he came to lie on top of him, his arms around his body.

“Oh, get off me!” Alex whined, and Michael clung on tighter.

“But you’re so warm!”

“Then get a blanket!”

“I like you better.”

Alex groaned as he tried, with Michael still holding on to him, to turn onto his back. Michael laughed as the airman finally managed it, his head settled on Alex’s chest. Alex put an arm around his back, one hand still on his book.

“You’re relentless.”

“You love me,” Michael said, and felt Alex’s heart race against his ear.

“I love you,” Alex repeated in monotone, and Michael squeezed so unbearably tight that the airman burst into laughter himself. The sound was so beautiful that Michael couldn’t help but smile along, kissing wherever he could reach.

“Okay, _okay_ ,” he said as Michael’s lips touched his jaw, his fingers slipping through the cowboy’s curls. “You’ve got my attention.”

“Good,” he said, and Alex’s chest vibrated against his cheek as he laughed again. “I love your laugh.”

“Is there anything about me you _don’t_ love?”

“Since when are you so smug?”

“Is there?” Alex pressed.

Michael kissed his chest again with another smile. “No. I love every part of you, every tiny detail, every little bit. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Alex didn’t answer, and Michael looked up to find him staring at the ceiling, his expression unreadable, his book forgotten.

Michael touched his jaw lightly, the smile at his lips dimming. “You here?”

Alex looked down at him, smiling, running his hand up and down Michael’s back. “I’m here, baby.”

At the nickname, Michael released a relieved breath he didn’t know he was holding, and cuddled deeper into the crook of Alex’s neck.

“I thought I lost you for a second there,” he confessed, his voice not as light as would’ve liked.

Alex’s fingers dug into his back. “I’m yours forever, Guerin,” he quietly promised. “All yours.”

Michael held on tighter. “So will you put the book down now?”

“No,” Alex scoffed.

“Put it down.”

“ _No_ , I’m reading!”

“Kiss me!”

“Later!”

“ _Alex_!”


	91. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael tries to stay up with Alex.

It wasn’t the first time Michael had woken up to find his boyfriend’s side of the bed empty, nor was it the first time he had pulled himself out of bed to look for him.

To no surprise, he found Alex on the couch in the living room, his back to Michael, a book in his hands, and headphones covering his ears. As if he was trying the best he could to make sure his own dark thoughts had no way of touching him.

Michael sighed, and walked up to him, hugging him from behind. Alex wasn’t even startled.

“Hey,” he muttered, kissing the airman’s cheek. “What’re you doing up?”

Alex pulled the headphones off, and turned his face to meet Michael’s lips in a proper peck. He held up his book, the only response Michael would get.

Michael raised his brow at the fresh cup of steaming coffee on the small table in front of Alex, and suspected it was not the first he’d had that night. “You’re _trying_ to stay awake?”

Alex smiled at him, and Michael couldn’t help but notice how sad it looked. “It’s just easier.”

Michael hugged him tighter, kissing the top of his head. “Alright, baby. You want to stay awake, we’ll stay awake.”

As he came around to lie on the couch beside Alex, the airman giggled tiredly to himself. “Thanks, Guerin.” He sighed. “You’re the best.”

Michael put an arm around his shoulders, forcing himself to smile even as Alex yawned, and clearly shook himself to fight off the exhaustion. The man never caught a break, even when he desperately needed one.

He kissed Alex’s temple, then his cheek. “I promise, I won’t fall asleep this time.”

“I believe you,” Alex said, his eyes on his book.

Of course Michael fell asleep. He woke up at sunrise to find his head on Alex’s lap, the airman’s coffee cup empty as he rubbed his eyes, at least three-hundred pages further into his book than when Michael had found him.

Michael groaned, trying to ignore how good it felt to have Alex raking his fingers through his curls, and pushed himself up. “I’m _sorry_ , baby.”

“Hm?” Alex blinked, looking as if he had forgotten where he was, what he was doing, and even – as Michael sometimes feared but never confessed – who the cowboy even was. Without waiting for Michael’s response, Alex returned to his book. Michael had the feeling he’d been reading that page for the past several minutes.

“Come on,” he gently pulled the book from his hands. “Let’s get you some sleep.”

“I don’t want to,” he muttered.

“I’ll watch over you,” he promised.

“Guerin, really,” he shook his head, dozing off already. “I’m fine.”

Michael led Alex’s head onto his shoulder, had him wrap his arms around the cowboy’s neck, and carried the Air Force captain in his arms. For that moment, he was not a powerful military man, he was Michael’s boyfriend, with his large sweaters, his rosy cheeks, his soft hair, and his red lips that mumbled against Michael’s skin as he was carried to bed. Michael put him down, and crawled in beside him.

“I don’t want to sleep,” he muttered, wrapping an arm tightly around Michael’s shoulders. “Please don’t let me fall asleep.”

Michael gently stroked his cheek. He knew Alex suffered nightmares like he himself could never imagine, and he never promised the airman that they wouldn’t bother him, because he didn’t want anything he told Alex to ever be a lie. He wasn’t delusional, he knew he couldn’t rid Alex of the monsters that haunted him, never completely. But still…

“I’ll protect you,” he whispered into Alex’s hair. “I’ll stay here with you, and I’ll keep you safe. No one will touch you, Alex.”

Alex’s fists clenched in his shirt. “Don’t leave.”

Michael kissed his forehead hard, and tightened his hold on the airman’s waist. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex nodded uncertainly against him, and held him back just as tightly, his grip only loosening as he finally drifted off to sleep.


	92. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael gets insanely jealous of Alex's love for Superman.

Alex had noticed long ago that Michael had a slight… _jealousy_ problem where the two of them were concerned. If any guy at a bar talked to Alex, Michael stepped in. If Kyle offered to take the airman to dinner after a long day of being stuck in the bunker, Michael stepped in. Anytime Alex even remotely looked at another guy that might be generally considered attractive; _Michael stepped in._

It was lucky for Alex that he only ever had eyes for the cowboy. And… one particular superhero that – to his dismay – Liz and Maria knew all about.

“Superman has _powers_!”

“Yeah, but Batman has the _batmobile_!”

“Alex, tiebreaker!” Isobel snapped. “Superman or Batman?”

“That’s not fair!” Maria argued. “You _know_ Alex is in love with Henry Cavill, he won’t pick anyone else!”

Michael stopped with the bottle at his lips, and looked over at them, his brows furrowed. “Alex is in love with who?”

Alex, who could tell when Michael was getting ready to blow something up, shook his head and smiled, touching Michael’s arm. “No, she, uh, she was talking about the movie.”

“Henry Cavill,” Isobel grinned. “Another point to _Superman_!”

“I…” Maria tried, and groaned. “Damn it! Curse his gorgeous eyes and that beautiful accent.”

“And his muscles,” Liz added. “And his smile.”

Michael frowned, leaning forward. “Hold on, who is this guy?”

“Henry Cavill,” Liz raised a brow. “How do you _not_ know who he is? Alex talks about him all the time.”

“No, I don’t,” Alex barely managed to grit out before Maria nodded, adding, “ _All_ the time. You’re lucky he doesn’t live in New Mexico, Guerin.”

Michael’s eye twitched, his grip tightening on his glass. “Am I?”

“Oh my god, I’ve seen Witcher,” Isobel made a show of swooning. “He has _yellow_ eyes.”

Maria caught her with a laugh, and the three girls fell into a fit as they continued repeating things Alex had openly loved about the actor.

But despite watching them, Alex couldn’t _hear_ them. He was much too aware of Michael’s eyes on him, burning holes into his head. When Michael said his name, his eyes fell shut.

“Private,” he muttered close to his ear, his hand on Alex’s wrist. “Can I see you outside for a second?”

“Guerin,” he tried, “I don’t think –”

“Come on, Alex,” he nudged the airman’s waist, and Alex gasped slightly at the cowboy’s hot breath against his skin.

Alex swallowed, stood up from the table where the others who were too deep in conversation to notice that the two had left, and followed him out the door.

He barely stepped outside when his arm was yanked, and he was pushed against the wall. Michael had one arm beside Alex’s head, caging him in, his other hand unbuttoning the airman’s shirt.

“You love me?” he muttered, and Alex tried to control his breathing, the cowboy’s hot breath against his lips, his warm fingers on Alex’s collarbone.

“Are you going to ask me that every time someone says my name and ‘love’ in the same sentence?”

“Say it,” Michael said, his lips brushing Alex’s. Alex’s eyes fluttered. “Say it, baby. Say you love me.”

Alex took Michael’s hands in his face, closing the distance between them. He felt Michael whimper against his lips before his arms wrapped around Alex’s waist, pulling him in deeper. “You _know_ I do. You _know_ I love you.”

“Say it again,” Michael breathed, and kissed Alex again.

When they pulled back, Alex said, “You’re my _hero_ , and I love you, Michael.”

As Michael wildly kissed him, Alex ran his hands up and down the cowboy’s back, trying to calm his nerves. It wasn’t confusing behavior, Alex _knew_ why Michael was so insistent on hearing about the airman’s love for him, why he hated the simple implication that he could be attracted to anyone else.

He remembered all too well the look in Michael’s eyes as they had lied in bed two weeks ago, both of them on their sides after a long, heated night, the blanket at their hips. The two had been worn out, too tired to do anything but lazily touch each other, whatever they could reach, taking one another’s lips in their own, their foreheads pressed together.

“I’m not Kyle,” he had whispered, dazed and exhausted. “I’m not a doctor, I don’t save lives. I’m not Max, I’m not always considerate.” His fingers had been gentle on Alex’s jaw as if terrified that he would break with his touch. “I keep thinking… you’ll realize that you’re too good for me… and you’ll leave.”

It was impossible. Alex wanted to tell Michael that he loved him like he could never love anyone else, that he loved him so much _it hurt_ , that having Michael there, in his bed, had been his dream for over a decade. But the cowboy had fallen asleep, and Alex had only been able to pull him into his arms, holding him tightly, whispering his love into Michael’s curls.

That was why Alex knew now to let Michael kiss him senseless, to keep touching whatever of Michael he could reach, to reassure him that he loved him more than he could ever imagine.

Slowly, Michael’s kisses turned softer, slower, his hold on Alex gentler. He pulled away only to kiss the corner of Alex’s lips, then his cheek, then his jaw, and his forehead rested on the airman’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed.

Alex hugged him tightly. “You’re sorry you kissed me? I’m not.”

Michael huffed a miserable laugh against his shoulder, and Alex kissed his head, pulling him in deeper. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more.”

A moment of silence passed, then, “Henry Cavill?”

A laugh burst from Alex’s lips. “He _is_ Superman.” He sighed, and pressed another kiss to Michael’s lips. “He’s not better than you though.”

“Really?” Michael smirked. “Not even with the cape?”

Alex made a show of opening his mouth to answer, then closing it to think his response over. Michael bit his lower lip in retaliation, and Alex laughed.


	93. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael realizes he doesn't compliment Alex often.

Michael stood outside the bunker as music sounded from the inside. His brows furrowed as he pushed the door open, OneRepublic’s Marchin’ On echoing off the walls, Alex slumped over his desk, his chin resting on his folded arms, his eyes closed.

For a moment, Michael thought he was asleep, but once he was close enough, Alex opened his eyes and looked up at him. At first, the airman didn’t seem to know who Michael was, then he blinked and sat up with a deep sigh, stretching his arms out in front of him.

Michael gestured to the empty coffee cup and bags of food. “Long night?”

Alex hummed. “I was using the last heat signatures we’d found at Caulfield to trace any similar patterns throughout New Mexico.”

Michael thought that to anyone else, Alex’s tech talk may have been too hard to follow, but he sat down in the chair beside him, crossing his hands over his stomach as he leaned back. “And?”

Alex sighed, tossing the file nearest to him away. “And I’m going to have to expand the search to Texas and Arizona. It’ll take me _at least_ another week to scan. I may have to go stay there for a while.”

“Cool,” Michael said. “Road trip. When do we leave?”

Alex smiled, tired. Michael noticed the dark circles around his eyes were much darker since he had seen him last night. “There’s really no need, you two are better off continuing the work here.”

“Come on, you and me in a motel,” Michael coaxed, nudging Alex’s arm with his foot. He had meant it to be teasing, but the airman jolted awake at the touch, as if he had been sleeping with his eyes open this entire time.

“What time is it anyway?” Alex asked, rubbing his eyes.

Michael checked his phone. “Six.”

“In the _morning_?” Alex sighed. “Damn it. You’re early.”

He shrugged casually. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Mm. _Or_ you knew I’d still be here.”

The corner of Michael’s lips curled upward despite himself. “You almost sound smug. It’s so unlike you.”

“I’m not smug,” Alex mumbled, resting his head on his arms. “I’m just smart.”

Michael grinned, and hesitated only a moment before he moved his chair closer, putting an arm around Alex’s shoulders.

Alex looked up at him, half-startled, half-confused. Michael rested his own head on his arm, his eyes on Alex’s lips as he was unable to meet his eyes.

“Don’t look so shocked, _smartass_. You knew I’ve wanted to do this for months.”

Alex seemed to consider this, and settled on his arms with a sigh, allowing Michael to press their foreheads together.

“You smell good,” Michael breathed before he could help himself, and Alex laughed quietly into the space between them. Michael very pointedly did not surge forward and swallow the beautiful sound with his lips.

“Funny,” Alex muttered, and Michael had the feeling he was falling asleep. “You don’t smell drunk. You just sound it.”

Michael’s brows twitched, his arm around Alex’s shoulder tightening. “It’s not… weird or anything. I’ve complemented you before.”

Alex’s eyes flashed as he searched Michael’s face, and he closed his eyes again, smiling as he leaned in, his forehead against the cowboy’s chin.

“Let me sleep, Guerin,” Alex whispered, his breath hot against Michael’s neck. “I’m exhausted.”

Michael held him a little tighter, his own eyes fluttering shut as Alex breathed softly against his skin. Did he really not complement Alex often? He tried to think of the last time he had told Alex how wonderful he was, how brilliant, how strong, how beautiful. He couldn’t remember….

“Alex,” he whispered, and Alex did not respond. Michael thought he might’ve already fallen asleep. “You’re amazing.”

Alex still said nothing, but as Michael’s eyes closed, he felt the airman nuzzle deeper into his neck, his lips pressed against the cowboy’s racing pulse.


	94. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is done.

Alex was kneeling in the front garden, Buffy playing at his side with a bone, mud soaking his jeans as he pulled at weeds when he heard the truck swerve onto the dirt road behind him.

Alex wiped the sweat off his brow as Michael Guerin stepped out, spotting the airman, and sighed, his shoulders slumped. He held his hands out as if to say, _Well?_

“Where the hell have you been?”

Alex raised a brow. He looked down at the garden, and gestured to it. “Er –”

“Do I look like I’m in the mood for jokes?”

He blinked. “Aren’t you always?”

Michael’s jaw clenched, and Alex sighed, returning to his work as the cowboy fumed behind him. “What is it, Guerin?”

“Have you been avoiding me?”

Alex squinted. “ _What_?”

“You don’t come to the Pony anymore, you don’t come see me at the trailer,” he shook his head, disbelieving. “You’re avoiding me.”

“Guerin,” Alex huffed. “I don’t go to the Pony because I can’t look at Maria without getting angry. I don’t come to your trailer because I just _don’t_. I’m not _avoiding_ you, I’m just not putting in the effort to see you anymore.”

He shoveled the wet dirt in silence, and for an entire minute, he thought Michael had decided to leave, but then the cowboy said, “Are you still angry with me?”

“I’m not _anything_ with you, Michael. I’ve just given up.”

“You… you’ve given up?”

Alex said nothing. He was just so tired of having this conversation, so tired of taking one look at Michael’s beautiful eyes and forgiving, so tired of _blaming_ himself. He had made his mistakes, and he’d owned up to them, but he hadn’t broken what he and Michael were, and he was tired of being made to feel like he had.

“What does that mean?” Michael asked, and to Alex’s surprise, he came to sit in front of him on the ground, the dirt seeping into his clothes too. He didn’t sound angry, he just sounded lost. “Alex, what does that mean?”

Alex sighed. “It means I know you could never love me like I love you,” he confessed, and maybe it was because he had put it so bluntly, but Michael’s face fell. “It means I’m _tired_ of trying and trying and _trying_ to get you to finally _see_ me, just so you could realize that you hate what you saw.”

“Alex, I don’t –”

“I know you don’t hate me, Michael,” Alex cut him off. “But you hate that you see my father, and my family, and what _they_ did. So you know I’m tired of most? I’m _tired_ of loving someone who does nothing but punishes me.”

The two fell into silence after that. Michael seemed at a loss for words, and Alex’s eyes burned as he worked on. It was the sweat coming into his eyes, that was all. He didn’t want to cry for Michael, didn’t want to torture himself anymore for the cowboy’s sake.

Slowly, Michael stood, and without dusting off his pants, went to his truck, and drove off.

Alex kept digging, Buffy whimpering sympathetically in the background. “Don’t worry, girl, I’m fine,” he muttered, the only other sound for miles being the shovel as it hit the dirt. “It’s fine.”


	95. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex loves Michael's body.

Alex didn’t sleep. This was something Michael knew, and try as he might, he never could manage to stay up with him. Alex loved him for really wanting to, and despaired at his insistence to do so at all. It really wasn’t _all_ bad. For one thing, Alex was awake before Michael on most mornings, and since he really didn’t want to risk waking the cowboy up, he got to lie in bed for hours, watching his boyfriend’s beautiful face as he slept on.

Michael used to have a lot more nightmares, but he’d long since confessed to Alex that having the airman there with him was like having a safe place only you had the key to; nothing bad could get in. Michael’s brows were no longer furrowed in his sleep, the corner of his lips no longer pinched in a tight frown, his breathing was no longer shallow and quick. Alex didn’t want to think _he’d_ been responsible for that, whatever Michael said. He was just glad the cowboy could sleep peacefully.

Alex brought a hand up to Michael jaw, lightly running his fingers over the cowboy’s stubble, an electric shock going down his spine as the hair scratched his skin. He was unable to help but smile as Michael’s lips puckered at the touch of his fingers, and he leaned in, resting his forehead against the cowboy’s chin, still touching the stubble on his neck.

“You always touch me when I’m sleeping, Private?” Michael suddenly said, his voice so deep that Alex felt another shock in his spine, and his grin widened.

“I love how hairy you are,” Alex said, and kissed Michael’s jaw. “It’s sexy as hell.”

Michael chuckled, his arm around Alex’s waist pulling him in against him. “Then why aren’t you touching down here?” he demanded, bringing Alex’s hand from his jaw to his chest.

Alex bit his lower lip, stretching his fingers through the cowboy’s chest hair. “I thought you didn’t want me to touch you while you slept,” he murmured, his hand going lower to the trail of hair down Michael’s stomach.

Michael hissed as the airman’s fingers slipped beneath the blanket, his nails digging into Alex’s back. “Don’t make jokes like that, Private. By all means, touch me. Touch me, touch me, touch m – _ah_.”

“Good?”

Michael hummed, his eyes now shut tight as he leaned into Alex, his lips pressed to the corner of Alex’s mouth. Alex used his other hand to rub his chest, pinching his nipples.

“­ _A-Alex_.”

“Come, baby,” Alex whispered, his lips brushing Michael’s. “Come for me.”

Michael broke with Alex’s hand around him, his breath stuttering against Alex’s lips. As he panted, he tiredly swiped his own tongue against Alex’s. “I love you. Have you told you that yet? I _love_ you.”

Alex nuzzled his jaw. He so badly wanted to touch it, the cowboy’s lips, his neck, but his hand was dirty, and his other hand was on Michael’s chest, content with feeling his racing heart.

Michael cupped his jaw, leaning in to kiss him. He immediately deepened the kiss, rocking his body into Alex’s. “You know,” Michael breathed, his own hand coming up Alex’s chest. “You’re pretty hairy, too.”

Alex’s laugh died against Michael’s mouth as the cowboy moved to hover over him.


	96. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date-ish.

“Is this a date?”

Michael nearly choked on his drink. Alex was gripping his milkshake with one hand, trying to seem nonchalant, but Michael could not fail to notice the way his finger scratched the edge of the table. He had long since learned to recognize that as a sign of Alex’s anxiety. The mighty Air Force captain was _nervous_. Michael’s heart swelled.

He tried not to smile. “A date?”

“Yeah, I – I mean,” he cleared his throat, puckering his lips in that way Michael loved and pointedly resisted leaping across the tiny table to aggressively kiss him into the booth. He didn’t think Arturo would appreciate it much.

“I just – I thought – you asked if I wanted to grab a bite, and…” he trailed off, glancing at Michael, and maybe he thought the cowboy was laughing at him, but he suddenly looked down, and shook his head. “Never mind, forget I said anything, it was a stupid question, I – what are you – what are you doing?”

Michael had moved out of his seat and slid into Alex’s side of the booth, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

“G-Guerin?”

Michael nuzzled the airman’s cheek before kissing it, and leaned back, pulling Alex along with him. “You think I love you, Private?”

“Er – what?”

Michael smirked against Alex’s ear. “Do you think I love you?”

Alex remained stiff and tense in Michael’s hold, and whether that was because he was nervous or because the cowboy’s breath was against the shell of his ear, Michael had no idea. He just knew to use his other hand to rub the airman’s arm soothingly.

“Do you really need to think about this answer?” he muttered as he brought Alex’s hand up to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to the airman’s beautiful fingers.

Alex softened, some of the tension in his shoulders dissipating. That incessant light in his bright brown eyes, that one that refused to dim despite all the troubles the airman had suffered, the light Michael loved so much, sparkled, and that certainty that Michael always knew to be associated with Alex returned.

“You love me,” he said, sure of it.

Michael hummed, inhaling Alex’s scent as he kissed up his arm, his shoulder, his neck, his jaw. Alex squirmed away, warning him that they were in public, but Michael didn’t care. He pulled Alex in closer, placing an open, wet kiss on his cheek and the corner of his lips.

“Guerin, I – y-you can’t –”

“I love you,” he breathed. “You think our first date would be _anywhere_? You know I’m a hell of a lot more dramatic than _this_.”

“You really think about that stuff?” Alex asked, and Michael was overwhelmed with how much he loved him. Overwhelmed with his _need_ to touch Alex, to kiss him, to whisper praise after praise into his skin. How could he think Michael _didn’t_ obsess over him? How could he _not know_ that he consumed every one of Michael’s waking thoughts?

“Baby, you have _no_ idea,” he muttered, and kissed Alex’s ear. “First of all, our date would be at the trailer. It’d be on a clear night,” Michael glanced at the window, silently cursing the rain as the storm thundered on, “so we could watch the stars. I’d make us dinner – what’re you laughing at, I can cook! – and we’d put blankets out under the sky, and we would spend all night…” he whispered his last words here into Alex’s ear, and the airman’s laugh cut off in his throat.

He moved back, cupping Alex’s jaw. “Alex, I want our first date to be _perfect_. After everything, you deserve it. You deserve _everything_.”

Alex scoffed in disbelief, as if Michael was missing the most obvious point. He took the cowboy’s face in his hands, and pressed a kiss to his lips. It wasn’t anything like Michael was used to from the man too shy to hold his hand in public, but before he could move past his surprise and properly kiss back, Alex pulled away.

“You stupid cowboy,” he muttered, smiling fondly. “I already have you. That _is_ everything.”

He might’ve meant to stand then, but Michael suddenly felt unable to separate from him for even a second. He wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist, pulling him in against him, and nearly pushing them both onto the booth seat as he took Alex’s lips in his.

“Guerin, there are people here!” he half-whispered, a laugh in his throat. Michael kissed him again.

“Date me,” he said. “Be my boyfriend.”

“I – _Guerin_ ,” he laughed harder. “I already am!”

“No,” he said. “Tell me you’ll be my boyfriend when I give you the perfect date.”

“But I told you, you’re already –”

“Tonight,” Michael cut him off. “Go out with me tonight. I’ll give you the perfect night if it kills me.” He touched Alex’s cheek. “I want to see the moonlight on your face when I kiss you, and I want your cheeks to be red when you look up at me, and I want you to be out of breath and laughing when you tell me you’ll be my boyfriend. I want to be inside you when you make me the happiest man in any universe.”

Alex was searching his eyes, his own sparkling. He was grinning only slightly, but it was as if he couldn’t believe his luck. Michael knew the feeling. “Michael…”

“Date me, Alex. Go out with me tonight.”

Alex nodded, their foreheads pressed together. “I’ll go out with you, baby.”

The nickname from Alex’s mouth had Michael’s heart jumping. Despite the incessant _ting ting ting_ from the background, presumably Arturo slamming the bell, not-so-subtly telling Michael to get off Alex, Michael held on, kissing the airman senseless, happy to lose his breath to Alex’s lips.


	97. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex likes to use Michael to stay warm.

“You know we have blankets, right?”

Alex mumbled an incoherent response, snuggling deeper into the crook of Michael’s neck, wrapping his arms tighter around the cowboy’s waist.

Michael bit his lower lip to keep his smile from widening. Alex’s eyes were closed, his cheeks flushed. He was half asleep, and after two weeks of nonstop work and having little to eat or drink but coffee, Michael wasn’t in any hurry to wake him up, but the airman was clearly cold, yet he refused to go to bed, and insisted on lying on the couch with only the cowboy as his source of warmth.

Still, he wrapped his arms tighter around Alex’s body, his lips pressed to the top of the airman’s hair. “Suit yourself.”

There was a reason, Michael knew, that Alex insisted on staying with him. Around only an hour or two after Alex had drifted off to sleep completely, Michael felt him stirring in his arms. He had been dozing off himself, but at the airman’s quickening breaths against his collarbone, he woke. Alex’s brows were furrowed, his frown deep, and Michael felt himself completely wake with the airman’s whimper.

“Hey,” he whispered, raking his fingers through Alex’s soft brown locks. “Hey, Private, it’s okay. Alex.”

Alex woke with a start, his eyes wide. “I – where – _where am I_?”

Michael held him tighter as he panted, running one hand up and down his back. “Shh, baby, it’s okay, you’re okay. You’re in the cabin with me.”

“Guerin,” Alex clawed at his back, desperately getting as close as possible. Michael kept rubbing soothingly, kissing the top of his head again and again. “Guerin, stay close to me.”

“I’m right here, baby. I’m right here.”

And he held him, as he always did, until Alex’s breathing calmed. They sat in silence for a long moment, Michael’s concern for his boyfriend calmed with his fingers in Alex’s hair, one hand up his shirt, rubbing circles into the base of the airman’s spine.

“I’m sorry,” Alex muttered against Michael’s collarbone, and Michael squeezed him so unbearably tight, he was sure it hurt.

“Don’t apologize,” Michael said into his hair. “I love you, I love taking care of you.”

Alex shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to. It’s not your fault I’m broken.”

“You’re not broken,” Michael whispered fiercely. “And if you are, _I’ll_ be the one to fix you. No one else gets to have you, Alex, or touch you, not for a second. _No one_.”

Alex said nothing for a moment, but his fingers which were digging into Michael’s skin only seconds ago released their hold, and came down to hug the cowboy’s hips.

“I love you so much,” the airman breathed, his eyes closed as Michael leaned down to press a kiss between his brows.

“I love you more.”

The two lay there for the rest of the night, together, with nothing but the leaves rustling in the wind outside, the crickets, and Alex’s soft breathing heard for miles. The airman did not wake for three hours. Michael finally slept, content.


	98. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has a panic attack.

Michael noticed the signs early on.

It had been weeks since the death of Alex’s best friend, killed in action, one of the best to ever serve, real nice guy, you would’ve loved him. The only thing was, Michael was sure he would’ve hated the sight of him, because what the official documents _didn’t_ say was that the airman was gay. That he had a boyfriend he loved more than anything. And that that boyfriend so happened to be the love of Michael’s life.

Alex had said it was a short thing, that when Forest had proposed to him, he had broken things off because he realized he could never love him that deeply, but just to know that someone else had touched Alex, that someone had slept with him, had heard his moans and seen his smiles and kissed his lips – it had driven Michael insane. When Alex had gotten the call, mentioned the man’s name, and needed to sit down, Michael had found himself hoping nothing had happened to him.

The funeral happened and it was over, Alex in his captain’s uniform, strong as ever. But something had changed since then, since Forest’s sister had come up to him and given him the man’s tags with a kind, wet smile, and thanked him for being her brother’s hero. Michael saw something shatter in the airman, beyond repair. But he was still Alex Manes, so he didn’t show it.

He went to work on the Project Shepherd files as usual, smiling to others when he spoke, but nothing beyond politeness, he was still eating, but never unless he was reminded, and Michael didn’t assume he slept, but when did he ever?

“Private,” Michael had chanced one day, nudging Alex’s arm as the airman seemed too lost in his work to hear him. “You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, oh yeah, Guerin, I’m fine,” he said, patting Michael’s hip twice before he went back to work, forgetting the cowboy was even there.

It wasn’t like they weren’t talking, they _were_ , and sometimes, Michael was lucky enough to get a genuine smile or joke out of the airman, but ever since that damned call, Alex had been as polite to him as anyone else. As if he was a perfectly fine stranger. It was miserable, more so because Michael had no idea what was going on in Alex’s head. He felt like he was waiting on a ticking time bomb.

Then one day, Elvis Presley started playing on the radio they had in the bunker – it got too depressing to sit in silence – and, for the first time in weeks, Alex’s typing stopped. Michael glanced at him, and looked again. The man was hunched over in his chair, his eyes wide, his fingers digging into his elbows as he hugged himself. He was roughly scratching his own skin.

Michael’s brows furrowed. “Alex?”

Alex did not respond. His breathing turned louder, shallower and faster, as if he couldn’t breathe at all.

Kyle stood, his frown filled with concern. “Buddy, you good?”

Alex scrunched his shoulders in closer, his whole body trembling.

“Oh my god,” Michael said at the same time that Kyle muttered, “No, not again.”

“K-Kyle,” Alex managed to say, but Kyle was already kneeling at his side, forcing one of Alex’s hands away from himself to check his pulse. It must’ve been racing because Kyle cursed and stood, pulling Alex against his chest as Alex muttered his name over and over again. His eyes turned glassy, big tears falling down his cheeks in an instant as if they had been _begging_ to be released.

And Michael watched. He had noticed the signs, but he was so shocked to think that Alex, his airman who never seemed to be scared of anything, could be having a panic attack. There was no question as to why. Michael understood that something about Elvis Presley’s songs reminded Alex of his military friend, but to have this kind of reaction, to ask for _Kyle_ instead of Michael – it was all so much that Michael couldn’t get himself to move.

Alex’s knuckles turned white as he dug into his skin, scratching deep lines through the fabric that Michael was sure would hurt the airman later, but he didn’t know if – should he try to take Alex’s hand in his own – it would be welcome. So he watched. He watched as Alex’s panic turned to a broken sob, then he watched as Alex cried into Kyle’s shirt in a way that Michael had never thought Alex could cry.

By the end of it, Michael was watching a man he’d believed to be invincible, falling. Kyle held him through his tears, through the numbness that followed, through the uncontrollable tremors, through the protests, through the self-deprecation.

“I abandoned him,” Alex muttered.

“You were injured,” Kyle whispered fiercely into his hair. “You had to leave.”

Alex, in the end, stood. His eyes were red and puffy, his frown etched in a way that Michael feared was permanent, his forefinger scratching his thumb.

“I want to go home,” was all he said, and without a look at either of them, he made his way to the door and left.

It was a while of silence before Michael, who had yet to move from his chair, said, “You said ‘not again.’ Has he been like this before?”

Kyle kept his eyes on the door where Alex had walked out. “Yes. Believe it or not, he’s not made of stone.”

Michael glared. “I know that –”

“Then ask me,” Kyle said coldly. “Ask me when the other time was. The _only_ other time. Since you’re so sure he has a heart, and since you seem so defensive of protecting it, _ask me_.”

Michael swallowed, his jaw clenched. He wanted to stare Kyle down, but he imagined Alex turning that panicked and miserable because of _him_ , because of a decision he had made, because – despite his promise – he _had_ looked away. Michael imagined Alex’s grief, the way he had shattered, when he found out the man he loved, the man who claimed to love him, had chosen someone else. Michael dropped his gaze.

“I never meant to –”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t,” Kyle said. “I’m sure you didn’t give him a second thought.”


	99. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is chopping onions and starts crying.

Alex was crying.

Michael didn’t know why or when it started, but he stepped into the cabin, the door barely open before he heard the airman’s sniffling and choked sobs. He dropped his jacket which he was just taking off and ran into the kitchen.

“Alex? Alex!”

“What?” Alex looked up from where he was chopping onions, his face streaked with tears. He dropped his knife. “What, are you okay?”

Michael’s panic fell away, giving room to laughter. He stared at the onions as he pulled Alex in for a hug. “You’re not crying?”

Alex choked back another sob, and Michael felt his grin widen. His baby was _so cute_. “No?” Alex said as if it was ridiculous. “I – would you _let go_ , I need to wash my hands!”

Michael gave him a quick kiss to the cheek before he came over to the counter where several bowls of neatly chopped vegetables sat. “You could’ve waited for me, you know. Oh, wait, what am I saying? You’re _Alex_ , of course you couldn’t wait.”

Alex glared, and threw the dishtowel at Michael’s head. “Very funny. Serves me right for wanting to do something nice for you.”

Michael knew he wasn’t really angry, he knew Alex loved seeing him, he knew Alex wasn’t actually crying, but his heart broke at the way the airman’s voice cracked.

He came around the counter, taking Alex’s hands in his. “Something nice for me? I have a few ideas.”

Alex cracked a smile, wiping at another few tears that rolled down his cheeks. “I’m serious. Look at me, I can’t even cook for you without crying.”

Michael laughed, kissing the airman’s lips, then his jaw. “Aww, my baby. It’s actually nice to know you’re not perfect at _everything_.”

Alex scoffed, his forehead falling onto Michael’s shoulder. “Stop using that word. I’m not perfect.”

“Never,” he said, nuzzling the airman’s ear. “You cuddle up to me every time I say it.” He bit his lower lip, his grin widening. “You smell like soy sauce.”

Alex groaned, wrapping his arms around Michael’s waist as if hoping the cowboy’s smell of sweat and dirt would rub off on him. He soon let go and stepped away, and Michael instantly missed his warmth.

“I have to check the sauce,” he said. “Go shower.”

Michael pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes at the stove, turning it off with his mind. Alex had barely time to turn around with raised brows when Michael pulled him in for a kiss, tasting the green peppers on his tongue.

“Come shower with me,” he whispered against the airman’s lips, wiping a tear from his cheek. “There are no onions in the bathroom,” he offered, and Alex playfully smacked his arm.

“I hate you so much,” he muttered.

“No, you don’t,” Michael said, pulling him in for another hug.

“No, I don’t,” Alex sighed into the crook of his neck.


	100. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds out Alex likes Forest.

“What’re you doing?”

Alex started, his back pressed against the wall, and for the first time since Michael had kissed him in the UFO museum, the airman looked startled.

“Oh, h-hey,” Alex cleared his throat, and looked over his shoulder. “When – er – when’d you get here?”

Michael raised his brow. They were standing in front of the Crashdown building, and as Michael tried to lean over to look around the corner, Alex moved to block his view.

“You’re blushing,” he noted.

Alex laughed, and to Michael’s surprise, he sounded nervous. He ran a hand over his face as if hoping the red would go away. “What’re you talking about? Come on, let’s go inside.”

Michael pretended to let Alex tug at his arm, but as soon as the airman let go, he moved to the corner, and peeked around to find a tall, blue-haired man in black clothes, silver piercings, and too many tattoos to be trusted laughing with a bunch of guys.

“Guerin,” Alex whispered, pulling him back. Michael let him.

“Geez,” he said when they were inside. “Can’t you just listen to me for once?”

“You were staring at Forest?”

“Would you keep it down?” he glanced at the wall behind them as if afraid that Forest might hear him through the building. Michael felt something like a needle stab at his heart. “And I wasn’t _staring_ , I was just – I –” he huffed, “look, some of my friends thought they’d talk to him, see if he likes guys, okay? Happy now?”

Michael was definitely _not_ happy. “Why would they do that?”

“They think they’re doing me some kind of favor,” Alex sighed, his cheeks redder than they were outside, in the cold.

“You like Forest,” Michael noted.

Alex glanced at him and said nothing. “You want to sit down? I’ll order.”

“When did you start liking Forest?”

“Guerin, go sit down,” he said with that air of authority that came with being an Air Force captain, that tone that Michael usually loved so much but now found himself afraid of it.

Alex liked someone? Someone who, Michael would never admit, he had caught staring at the airman too many times before when he wasn’t looking? Michael didn’t know if Forest had a thing for guys, but he definitely had something for his Alex.

Michael swallowed, the lump reforming in his throat no matter how many times he pushed it down. After Alex had found out about Michael and Maria, it had been a while before he could look either of them in the eye, and even now, Michael knew his friendship with Maria would never be the same. But they had said they would be friends, they said they would try to be around each other, and for a while, Michael had been happy because he got to at least have Alex. He thought he would have time to feel what he felt about Maria, and Alex would be there waiting for him when he got back.

Now, he was finding out that Alex not only had crushes, but he had a crush on a guy that _liked him back_. It wasn’t until Michael sat down with his hands clenching and unclenching around the fabric of his jeans that he realized he wasn’t just scared, he was panicking. He was losing Alex.

“It’ll be a few minutes,” Alex said as he sat down across from him, setting a milkshake for both of them on the table. He looked at Michael, then did a doubletake, his smile dimming. “You okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Michael shook his head, waving off his concern. He had to breathe. It was fine. So Alex was attracted to someone, it wasn’t like he was actually going to _date_ anyone else.

“So,” he attempted after two minutes of tapping his milkshake glass. “Forest, huh?”

Alex groaned. “Guerin, no.”

“Come on, you can tell me.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s _you_!” Alex laughed, his voice colored with disbelief, as if he thought the reason was the most obvious in the world. “You think I can’t tell how you feel right now? You’re not happy, that’s for sure.”

Michael blinked. Of what he had expected Alex to tell him, the truth was definitely not it.

“What, you are?” Alex pressed, and Michael realized that Alex did not want him to deny it. It was fine. He couldn’t anyway.

He shook his head, and Alex looked away.

“You like him,” Michael said as if they’d started an entirely different conversation, and he didn’t bother to conceal the annoyance and fear in his voice.

“Yeah, we don’t have to talk about this,” he said in a tone that said, _Let’s not talk about it ever._

“You gonna ask him out?”

“Our food’s taking forever.”

“ _Alex_.”

Alex sighed. “ _What_? Guerin, I’m _not_ going to tell you about him.”

“I’m not asking you to tell me about _him_ , just tell me if you like him.”

“You already know the answer!”

“Then say it!”

“I like him!” he snapped, then, looking around quickly, quietly said, “I like him. Okay?”

He said the last part a little hesitant, as if afraid that Michael might burst to pieces, and it should’ve bothered him that Alex, after everything, was still so worried for him, but he found it gave him hope instead, which was somehow worse.

“Are – are you okay?” he asked quietly, and Michael realized he was staring at the table.

He looked up and cleared his throat, plastering on the most convincing smirk he could, though he knew it would do little to convince the airman. “Sleep with whoever you want, Private. I couldn’t care less.”

Alex’s eyes darkened, but nothing in the rest of his expression changed. He leaned back, his eyes on his drink. He nodded. He looked disappointed, and Michael knew he had said the wrong thing. “Great.”

Michael, after a moment of opening and clothing his mouth, leaned back in his own seat with a small nod.

Alex liked someone else, and Michael was fine with that. He was fine with Alex’s disappointment, Alex indifference, Alex’s frown. Really just… fine with it.


	101. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael uses Buffy's help to propose to Alex.

“She acting weird to you?”

Michael rolled out from the under his truck, his wrench in hand. Alex was leaning against the car door, a cold beer in hand. He gave it to Michael, the cowboy gestured at Alex to lean down, and pecked the airman’s lips before he took a sip of the drink.

“Who?” he asked, and as if in response, Buffy came running out excitedly barking, standing on her hindlegs, her front paws held up for Alex.

Alex attempted to crouch down to meet her, holding her face in his hands. “What’s got you so excited, huh?”

Michael cleared his throat and took another sip. “Maybe she needs to go to the bathroom,” he said, glaring at Buffy from over his glass bottle. She seemed too happy to care. Michael might’ve thought it was adorable if she wasn’t risking _everything_ he’d been working towards these past four months.

“I took her for a walk two hours ago,” Alex said, his brows furrowed. “Oh well. Hang on, girl, let me go get some waste bags.”

He fondly ruffled her head before he stepped inside the cabin, and Michael kept a smile on until his boyfriend was out of sight. Then he frowned at Buffy. “I told you to stay _cool_. You want him to figure it out?” Buffy jumped excitedly again, huffing with her tongue out. “Hey,” Michael pointed at her, “it’s not my fault he’s freaking Sherlock Holmes. You want him to be surprised or not?”

Buffy, apparently understanding enough, stopped jumping on her hindlegs and sat still with her tail wagging and her tongue out. Michael sighed.

“That’s as good as it’s gonna get, huh?”

Buffy barked again, and Michael could’ve sworn he heard, _Well, get a move on it then, will ya?_

“What’re you two talking about?” Alex chuckled as he came out, and Michael shrugged.

“Just, you know, how much we love you.”

“Mm hm,” Alex kissed the top of Michael’s curls, patted his beagle’s back, and told her to “come on” before he was walking around the house and towards the road.

It wasn’t another fifteen minutes until they got back, and Michael saw that Buffy was still waving her tail frantically. He had decided the best thing was to keep the two of them apart until tonight, so as soon as Alex stepped back into the cabin, Michael had pushed him against the wall, grinding their bodies together. He had suggested they take a shower (where Buffy couldn’t follow), and Alex, always taken by a sweaty Michael, responded with another bruising kiss.

By the time they’d gotten out, the sun was already setting. Michael, luckily, had had everything prepared that morning while Alex was out at the bunker, and hidden it all away in the oven or pantry. He dressed with unusual speed and set the table with a variety of dishes, from roasted chicken, mash potatoes, and seasoned rice, to fish and store-bought sushi (Alex loved fish however he got it), to chocolate pie and custard.

Buffy was nowhere to be found, though Michael admittedly did not look very hard, only hoped that the beagle would stay tucked in front of the fireplace for the rest of the night.

When Alex came out, still buttoning up his shirt, his eyes were wide. “Oh my god… what did you do?”

Michael laughed, leading Alex into a seat and pulling the chair back for him. “Seriously,” Alex pressed. “Burned down a building? Broke all the windows in the Pony?” He gripped Michael’s wrist as he sat across from him. “You didn’t breed another race of evil alien gerbils, did you?”

Michael sighed. “A guy makes _one_ mistake –”

“They almost ate Rosa.”

Michael shrugged a shoulder. “Worst things have happened.”

“Ha ha,” Alex released him only for Michael to take his hand before he could pull it away. “Then why all the food?”

“I wanted to make you happy,” he confessed, and Alex’s eyes softened. Michael took a deep, steadying breath. “I want to give you everything, Alex. I haven’t wanted to _try_ in a long time, and you… you make me want to try. I don’t mind hard work if it means I get to see that beautiful smile every day.”

He cupped Alex’s jaw, and Alex covered his hand with his own. “Guerin…”

“Look,” he licked his lips, “I’ve been wondering for months how to do this perfectly, and I realized… you don’t want fancy restaurants and a string-quartet and big diamonds. You’re Alex; you want comfortable, and happy, and warm, and… me. I never thought you would want someone like me, but I’m starting to think you might, and that’s… terrifying and amazing and sometimes it feels too good to be true. And I swear, I will work the rest of my life to make sure I deserve you.”

Alex’s eyes widened with realization at what was happening, and he tightened his hold on Michael’s hand. “Michael?”

“Alex,” Michael smiled despite his nervousness, and reached into his pocket. At the sight of a small box, Alex gasped, his eyes instantly filled with tears. “Will you –”

“Wait, _wait_ , stop,” Alex said quickly, and Michael stilled. He stayed silent a moment, staring at the box as if afraid that what was inside might attack him. “Are – are you sure?”

The cowboy blinked. “Pretty sure?”

“Pretty sure?” Alex pressed. “Or absolutely sure? Because if you’re not absolutely sure, I can pretend I never saw it.”

“Alex –”

“That’s a big – Guerin, it’s a _lot_ – I mean, it’s – you know?”

“I,” Michael shook his head. “Private, I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t sure.”

“Well, you haven’t asked yet.”

“Right. So –”

“So you can still change your mind,” Alex said, and Michael knew he should’ve panicked, afraid that this was Alex’s way of saying no, but he _knew_ his airman. He _knew_ Alex loved him and wanted to marry him. Maybe it made him a coward for waiting until now, but he didn’t want to risk losing Alex, and he knew what this was really about. Strangely enough, he found he only wanted to laugh.

“Alex, listen to me…” But his words trailed off as Buffy came running into the room. “Oh, no.”

Buffy, so excited to see the box in Michael’s hand, jumped up excitedly onto his lap. Michael tried to get her down, but she spotted Alex, and instead of going around the table, seemed to think it would be fun to leap across the small space to him. She failed the jumped, her legs smashing into the potatoes, shoving the pies and custard over, and sending the fish flying around as if they had wings before she leapt onto Alex’s chest.

Michael had fallen off his chair as he’d tried to stand and grab Buffy, and stepped into a pie instead. The floor and table were strewn with food, both he and Alex were covered with roasted chicken and custard, and Buffy had a fish head on her back.

Michael pulled himself up. “Yep, that went about as well as I thought it would.”

“No wonder she’s been so thrilled all day,” Alex said shyly, and Michael found himself smiling despite it all.

“Alex,” he stood, taking Alex’s hand to pull him up. Buffy jumped to the ground, her big eyes on her owner. “Do you not get how much I freaking _love_ you? I would _die_ for you, and if I have to be apart from you again, it’ll kill me, so for once, stop thinking about everyone else and tell me what you want.”

Alex’s hands tightened in his. “But –”

Buffy barked as if to refuse any more objections. Alex searched Michael’s eyes, maybe looking for any hesitation or fear. Michael didn’t mind. He wouldn’t find any.

Alex’s lips slowly stretched into that beautiful smile that always had Michael’s heart hammering in his chest.

“I want…” he swallowed. “I really want to marry you.”

Michael released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alex started laughing. “ _Yes_.”

Michael took Alex’s lips in his, unaware that he was being so aggressive until Alex’s back hit the wall. He pulled away, but Alex wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him back in, kissing him deeply. Michael really, truly _loved_ this man.

Buffy suddenly barked, and the two, startled, slipped on a cup of custard, and fell to them ground beside her.

“Yeah, yeah, girl,” Michael said, half-exasperated, half-fond. “Thanks for your help.” Alex laughed against Michael’s neck.


	102. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael gets angry that Alex reenlisted.

Alex heard the truck pull up to his driveway, Buffy pawing at the door, urging to be let out to greet the newcomer. Alex pulled the curtain back enough to see who it was. _Michael_.

He ducked his head and sighed. _Here we go_ , he thought. He didn’t know when the sight of the cowboy induced resignation and dread in him, and part of him wanted to cry for it, but he didn’t know how Michael would receive that, and after everything that had transpired the past few months – Max’s death, finding out about Maria and Michael, his father lying useless in a coma – he didn’t know how much more disappointment he could take.

“I’m coming, girl,” he said to Buffy, grabbing his crutch off the wall where it had been leaning, and, without throwing a jacket over his pale-blue t-shirt, he opened the door, and his beagle went running out.

She barked excitedly, and Alex took a deep breath, bracing himself before he stepped out as well.

Michael and Alex nearly walked into each other as the cowboy had seemingly ignored Buffy barking at his feet altogether in favor of rushing to the airman’s front door. Michael reached out his hands to steady Alex, and while his touch might have once excited the airman, left electricity shooting up and down his body, and had him yearning for more, to be _closer_ , Michael’s hands on him now only reminded him of Maria, reminded him that Maria had touched those hands, had pulled Michael in close to her. It made Alex sick.

He flinched away, and Michael let go, hurt flashing in his expression for a split second before it was gone.

“Sorry,” Alex murmured. “I just… don’t like being touched.”

Michael glanced at him, then away. It was mostly the truth. Alex wasn’t a huge fan of physical contact, unless it was by someone he trusted wasn’t going to hurt him. That used to be five people. Then it became three, and before Alex knew it, there was no one. Michael seemed to realize that he was not someone Alex trusted anymore.

“Kyle gave me this,” Michael said as he held up a red file in his hand, some of the venom when he spoke to Alex – as if he was talking to someone he wasn’t particularly fond of – returned to his voice. Alex liked to pretend Michael didn’t mean to do it, that it was how he spoke to everyone, but sometimes it was like the cowboy was watching him, waiting for his reaction, to be _sure_ he hurt Alex in some way.

“Couldn’t give me this yourself?”

Alex caught his gaze steadily, already weary from this conversation. When did that happen? When did just talking to Michael exhaust him? “You don’t care, Guerin. What’re you here for?”

Michael seemed momentarily startled before an expression Alex was all too familiar with – rage – took over his beautiful features, and he shoved the file against Alex’s chest, its corner digging into Alex’s neck.

Michael kept his hand on the file, and on the airman’s chest. “Where the hell did you get this? I thought your enlistment period was over already. If you _broke the law_ to get this information, Private –”

“I didn’t break anything,” Alex said, trying not to think of the concern in Michael’s eyes. He wasn’t worried for Alex’s safety. He was just worried he would get dragged into an investigation if Alex was caught. “I have access to this stuff. And I’m _careful_. I won’t get caught, don’t worry.”

“Access?” he asked, realization dawning in his eyes. “How? _How_ , Alex?”

Alex sighed. “I extended my enlistment period, okay?”

“Extended by how much?” Michael grit out.

He rubbed his face. “Four years. I – _look_ , Guerin, it’s fine –”

“You _reenlisted_? _Alex_ ,” Michael moved back, but Alex covered the cowboy’s hand on his chest with his own to keep him in place. _To keep him close_ , a voice in the back of his mind confessed.

“Why? Why would you do something so _stupid_ –”

“If I left Roswell,” Alex cut him off, and the cowboy turned silent, “and I _asked_ you to come with me… would you?”

Michael’s eyes were glassy as he glared at Alex, and when he said nothing, Alex told himself that it was okay, that he hadn’t expected Michael to ever say yes. But, nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sink into his stomach, his own eyes burning. He clenched his jaw.

“ _That’s_ why,” he said quietly. “Michael, you can’t even look at me anymore without hating me. You _can’t_ stop blaming me for what happened, so if this fixes things,” he shrugged, “then I’m going to do it.”

“Alex…” Michael shook his head. For a moment, just a moment, he looked like he wanted to hold Alex, like he wanted to kiss him, to _comfort_ him. Then he seemed to snap out of his haze, and Alex felt dread growing in his chest.

“Your family killed my mom, Alex, they took her away from me. Nothing can _fix_ that!”

“I know,” Alex said desperately. He had promised himself he wouldn’t fight to keep Michael near him, but having him so close now pushed him over that edge of hope. “And I _know_ what that feels like, to lose your mom because of Jesse Manes, but I –”

“You don’t know what it’s like!” he snapped, a tear rolling down his cheek. “My mom and I were separated because of _them_ , she didn’t leave me because she didn’t want me anymore…”

Michael trailed off, his eyes widening with what he’d said. Alex couldn’t help his own shock. Slowly, he released his hold on Michael’s hand and stepped back.

“No,” Michael started to say as Alex turned towards the cabin door. Buffy was whimpering at Alex’s side as if even she could sense his distress. “No, wait, I-I didn’t mean that, I didn’t –”

But Alex couldn’t hear him anymore. _She didn’t leave me because she didn’t want me anymore._ And the _way_ he had said it, as if it was obvious that was why Alex’s mother had left, as if it was obvious why _anyone_ would leave him; she didn’t want him. _No one did_ , Alex realized. Maria and Liz didn’t care for his friendship, Kyle only really needed his help, and Michael… Michael…

“Alex,” he tried again, and this time Alex could hear the panic in his voice. It was only because he was afraid Alex would stop helping him if he was upset. But he wasn’t upset. How could he be? No one wanted him; he’d always known that. He just supposed he never expected Michael to be the one to confirm it.

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” Alex said numbly, “even if you’re angry.”

“I’m sorry –”

“No, you’re not.”

“ _Alex_.”

Michael’s voice was desperate, _scared_ even. Alex’s heart ached for him even though he knew it shouldn’t. He sighed, letting Buffy into the cabin before he turned at the threshold. He was so _tired_.

“It’s okay. Okay? Please, just… leave.”

“Alex –” Michael tried, but Alex had already shut the door. It wasn’t until several moments later that Michael’s footsteps sounded walking away, the engine of a truck turned on, and he was gone.

Alex had been frozen to the spot, and only until he was sure Michael wouldn’t be knocking again did he fall to the ground against the door. Buffy nuzzled his arm, trying to get him to cheer up.

Alex didn’t think there’d be any cheering up today. Maybe tomorrow.


	103. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex gets jealous and possessive.

The sound of grunts filled the bedroom, heavy pants and pleading moans as Alex thrusted particularly deeply.

“ _Alex_ ,” Michael groaned, his nails scratching Alex’s back, but Alex reveled in the sting.

“Say it,” he said in a low voice in Michael’s ear. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Michael said without missing a beat, and Alex smiled against his skin.

Michael and Maria weren’t together anymore, Alex had to keep reminding himself. They had broken up, they had never really been together to begin with, and yet every time the two so much as looked at each other, Alex couldn’t help but instantly move to Michael’s side.

He remembered the way Michael had shivered when Alex had put a hand around his waist, the way his eyes had fluttered and his lips had parted when Alex had taken him into the bathroom and shoved him into a stall, the way he had moaned and pleaded when Alex had dropped to his knees, taken him to the very edge, and then whined in protest as Alex stood and left him there.

“Don’t forget who you belong to,” he had whispered in Michael’s ear before heading back out, leaving the cowboy whimpering behind him.

Michael, of course – being Michael – hadn’t settled for that, and the second Alex had sat down at the bar, he was being dragged out by the arm. He had been shoved against Michael’s truck, the cowboy grinding against him as he demanded that they get back to the cabin _now_. “I want to feel you in me,” he said, and wouldn’t relent until Alex – amusement coloring his tone – obliged.

Alex didn’t know which of them was in charge, but it didn’t matter as long as he got to feel Michael writhing beneath him, the cowboy’s warm, hairy, sweaty body pressed against his own. Alex felt he might die with how hard his heart hammered against his chest, how badly it ached and yearned for Michael.

Their thighs slapped as Alex’s thrusts turned wilder and wilder, Michael’s screams louder, his hold on Alex almost painful, but Alex thrusted, chewing on the cowboy’s earlobe, whispering how much he loved him in his ear. Michael looked unable to do more than hold Alex even tighter, scream even louder.

When Michael came, it was with Alex’s name on his lips, hugging his waist, refusing to let him move away.

“It’s going to hurt,” Alex warned softly, but Michael would not lessen his hold.

Alex pressed soft kisses on Michael’s cheeks and jaw to ease him, and he pulled out, falling to his side beside Michael who kept an arm around his waist, keeping him close.

Michael nuzzled Alex’s jaw, kissing his neck and shoulder before he rested his head in the crook of Alex’s neck. Alex raked his fingers through Michael’s curls, the tension in his chest at having seen his boyfriend with his best friend gone completely.

“I love you so much,” Alex breathed into his hair.

Michael pressed another kiss to his neck in response, and Alex could tell he was already falling asleep. His perfect cowboy.


	104. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael forgot about Valentine's Day.

“My life is ruined,” Isobel said without preamble as she opened the front door to the cabin.

Michael stared at her bleary-eyed with a steaming mug of coffee in hand that Alex, his Alex, had left for him, and wearing nothing but sweatpants.

“How’d you get in here?”

“And today, too, of _all_ days. I didn’t _need_ this today, Michael,” she said miserably, plopping onto the living room couch.

“I never gave you a key.”

“But, of course, that’s just my luck, isn’t it?” she went on. “ _Max_ never has this problem. You think it’s because I’m blonde?”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t let you in –”

“Oh, for the love of –” she started, and sat up, glaring at her brother. “Alex gave me a spare, okay?”

Michael blinked. “Alex – _my_ Alex – gave you a key?”

Isobel rolled her eyes. “You do realize you’ve been calling him _your_ Alex since you guys started dating? It was cute at first, now it’s just creepy.”

“What do you want, Izzy?”

“You’re not being very supportive to your sister whose date just cancelled on her.”

Michael sighed, setting his mug down on the coffee table before nudging Isobel’s feet off the couch with his knee and plopping down beside her.

He opened his mouth, probably to say something very enlightening or encouraging, but when he pushed the words out, all that came out was, “Aren’t _you_ usually the one that cancels?”

“ _God_ , you’re useless,” Isobel glared. “I’m going to tell Alex to break up with you.”

“All right, okay,” Michael put his hands up as if to defend himself. “Tell me, my dear Isobel, why you’re so upset about one jackass cancelling on you. Did you really like him?”

Isobel scoffed. “ _No_. Honestly, I don’t even really remember his name. Tommy? Timmy? Taro?”

Michael’s head fell back on the couch with a groan, and he rubbed his eyes. “Then what – why are we here? What’re we doing?”

“I’m upset because he cancelled _today_ ,” she said the word ‘today’ as if it held some great significance. When he shook his head with a shrug, to say he had no idea why that should matter, his sister’s eyes widened. “Oh please tell me you’re kidding.”

Michael glanced around for help, but Alex had gone to drop off Buffy at the vet that morning for her checkup, and neither of them would be back until noon.

“Michael!” Isobel started accusingly, and Michael had to refrain from looking guilty. Why should he be? He hadn’t done anything wrong!

“ _What_? Geez, would you stop looking at me like that? It’s freaking me out!”

“It’s _Valentine’s Day_!” she said. “You know, day for couples and romance and chocolate? Any of that ringing a bell?”

At the mention of the day, Michael felt a needle-like stab in his chest, dread filling his stomach. He swallowed, unable to help but straighten slightly in his seat. _Valentine’s Day_? Alex never said anything about that….

“ _Tell me_ you were joking,” Isobel repeated, clutching onto his arm. “ _Tell me_ you were joking, and you know what today is, and you have something amazing planned.”

Michael tried not to look as worried as he felt. “You don’t – you don’t think Alex expects anything today, do you?”

Isobel looked at her brother as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and similarly to him, she groaned as she fell back on the couch, her forearm covering her eyes as she shook her head. “Poor Alex.”

Michael’s heart beat painfully in his chest. _Was_ Alex expecting something for Valentine’s Day? What if his leaving was actually part of his own plan to do something special for Michael? Michael didn’t think he could handle it if his airman came back with this big romantic gesture and found Michael had nothing in return. Alex would smile and laugh, because that was who he was; Alex would not have expected anyone to do anything for him, even today. And that was the worst of it all. Michael was about to prove him right.

Michael flicked her knee. “ _Hey_. There’s no _poor Alex_. I – I got him something.”

Isobel raised her brow, her voice dripping with skepticism. “ _Really_?”

“Yeah, I,” he cleared his throat, “I have a whole day planned.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You’re _totally_ lying.”

“I’m not – _look_ , I’ll get a restaurant reservation and book a movie. Alex will just be happy to be with me.”

Isobel stared. “ _Wow_.”

“Screw you,” he said as he stood, grabbing his phone from the counter. Without waiting for Isobel’s word, he dialed Alex’s number and held it up to his ear, casually tossing her the middle finger over his shoulder when she groaned his name in exasperation.

_“This is Alex. You know what to do.”_ Michael frowned at the automated voicemail. Alex never ignored his calls. He tried calling again, and again, but Michael got the same response.

“He’s not answering,” he said.

Isobel snorted, and fell back on the couch. “I bet he’s planning something big. Like, _really_ big.”

Michael tapped a finger against his screen. “You think?”

“It’s _Alex_ ,” she said, as if that should’ve answered his question. And in a way, it did. _It’s Alex._ Alex, who found out about his father’s secret organization and _took over_ the whole operation to save not only Michael, but his entire kind. Alex, who saw that his friend was struggling with his mother, and told Liz, someone he loved, that she was being a bad friend. Alex, who loved Michael so much that he gave Isobel a key to his place so that she could come in whenever she wanted. So she would be happy and comfortable. Alex, who took care of everything, and did everything for everybody.

“I have to go see him,” he said quickly as he rushed into their bedroom and threw a shirt on.

“Why? What, are you going to make up a plan when you see him? ‘Happy Valentine’s Day or whatever, which I totally remembered!’”

Isobel’s voice cut off as Michael shut the cabin door behind him. He got into his truck with a speed he didn’t think was necessary, but his heart pushed for anyway. Alex never ignored his calls before. He considered stopping by a florist’s shop, maybe a bakery, but it felt like such a cheap lie. _‘Hey, here’s a bunch of gifts I never really planned to get you that I hope you can be satisfied with.’_

No. Alex deserved better than that. Michael called again, and Alex did not respond. “Come on, Private, don’t be mad at me.”

Was Alex mad at him? Was he too busy planning the amazing Valentine’s Day gift Michael knew he would never match? Was he expecting anything from Michael at all?

He stopped by all the places he thought Alex might be; the Crashdown Café, the Wild Pony – and everywhere, there were couples making out, giggling or chatting together, alongside all the Valentine’s Day specials. How had Michael missed that?

In a last desperate attempt, though he had no idea why, he stopped at the door of the bunker. They weren’t finished with Project Shepherd, nowhere near it in fact, but they had finished with enough of it that it felt like they could breathe better during the day. At least, they were _supposed_ to be able to. Michael still caught Alex awake several nights that his airman might fall asleep in the middle of lunch or against the Wild Pony counter. Michael was always filled with so much love and warmth and concern for the man that he could only drape his own jacket over Alex’s shoulders, and make sure no one bothered him during his sleep.

If Michael couldn’t find his man, this was where he would usually end up being. _But it was Valentine’s Day_ , he thought. Would Alex really come here of all places?

Michael opened the door to the bunker, the place filled with shadows, but before he could turn away, dismayed that whatever Alex had planned, he had no idea where it could be, he noticed a flicker of movement at the end of the room and stopped. There, slumped over his desk in front of the dim light of the computer, was Alex.

Michael frowned and hurried to his side. Was he hurt? Was he in pain? Why hadn’t he called Michael to come get him?

“Alex? Baby, are you…” Michael trailed off when he realized Alex wasn’t hurt, but _asleep_. He blinked, and heaved a sighed, a hand on his chest, relieved.

“Alex,” he shook him softly. “Alex?” Alex started, sitting up in his seat, disoriented. “Whoa, hey, baby, it’s okay, it’s just me.”

Alex blinked at Michael, and rubbed his eyes. “Guerin? What’re you doing here?”

“What’re _you_ doing here?” Michael pulled up a chair and took a seat beside Alex. “I’ve been calling you.”

“You have?” Alex frowned, looking around for his phone. Michael found it on another desk, Michael’s calls unanswered. He sighed, pulling Michael in close before he rested his forehead on the cowboy’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Guerin, I must’ve dozed off.”

Michael couldn’t help it. Despite it all, he smiled against Alex’s ear. “What were you even doing here?”

Michael almost instantly regretted asking as Alex pulled away and looked at the screen. “You know how I couldn’t sleep last night?” he asked, and Michael nodded.

It had been another restless night for his airman, and Michael had woken up to find him already making their breakfast at four in the morning. He had plastered a smile on his face and gone to kiss the nape of his neck, pretending his heart wasn’t breaking for the man he loved.

“I had an idea that maybe the next facility was somewhere in Texas, given the last satellite reading. I thought maybe if I could hack into the controls of that satellite, then I could –”

“Get a better reading on the heat signatures in the area,” Michael finished with a nod. “Makes sense, but why didn’t you tell me?”

Alex looked pained. “I just… I thought I could handle it by myself, without upsetting you. Honestly, I hoped I would be wrong, and there isn’t a facility. I…” he didn’t finish, but Michael could hear his confession. _I don’t think_ I _could handle it if there was another one either._

“Alex,” Michael whispered, his hand around Alex’s neck before pulling him in to place a kiss on his forehead. He pressed their foreheads together, chuckled ruefully, and said, “And to think, I was worried you were planning some big Valentine’s Day thing.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “Valentine’s…?” he gasped, his eyes widening. He got to his feet in an instant, winced, and would’ve fallen back onto his chair if Michael hadn’t caught him and guided him onto his lap.

“I’m so sorry, Guerin, I’m ­ _so_ sorry!”

Michael chuckled. “Alex –”

“I completely forgot, I’m so sorry, I can’t _believe_ I could be so _stupid_ –”

“Baby, it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not,” Alex buried his face in Michael’s shoulder, gripping Michael’s jacket tightly as if afraid the cowboy was going to move away from him. “You deserve the perfect Valentine’s Day, and I ruined it. I shouldn’t have forgotten, I –”

“Alex, _I forgot, too_!”

Alex whimpered. “No, you didn’t, you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Hey, look at me,” Michael took his face in his hands, pecked his lips, and said, “ _I forgot_. Isobel had to remind me. By the way, you gave her a key to the cabin. Can we talk about that?”

Alex sniffled, resting his head on Michael’s shoulder, his lips pressed to the skin there. “I thought you’d want me to.”

“I didn’t, I don’t,” Michael laughed. “It was a horrible idea. I don’t want her ever walking in on us, _ever_.”

Alex shook his head against Michael’s shoulder. “I – I promise, tomorrow – best day ever. I’ll make us dinner, we can watch a movie –”

“Or we could just spend the day in bed,” Michael smirked, holding Alex closer. “See the blanket around your hips, touch you wherever I want, feel your hands on me – now _that_ sounds like the perfect day.”

Alex chuckled tiredly against his neck. “Of course you’d say that.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Whatever you want, baby,” Alex muttered, holding Michael tighter.

“Are you falling asleep?” Michael whispered, running his hand up and down Alex’s back.

Alex mumbled something incoherent, and Michael huffed a laugh, kissing his boyfriend’s head. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Private.”


	105. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael wants Alex to be his.

Michael’s eyes fluttered shut as he took Alex’s lips in his again, the airman’s laugh dying against his mouth as Michael took hold of his jaw, keeping him in place.

They were lying on opposite sides on the blanket, the airstream’s golden light from the inside leaving streaks in the night, the only source of illumination for the two as they lay naked under the stars.

“I love you,” Michael whispered for what must’ve been the hundredth time, though lying here now across from the love of his life, Alex’s dark eyes turned bright in the moonlight, his body smooth and warm and beautiful, Michael found himself unable to say anything else. “I love you, I love you, I _love_ you.”

“I love you, Michael,” Alex whispered, biting his lower lip before taking Michael’s face in his hands and kissing him deeply. “You’re my everything.”

Michael’s heart swelled with love and warmth for this man, this man who he was once so sure he had lost. But no, tonight was not the time to think of that. Alex was here, and naked, and holding him, and _his_. And he wanted to enjoy every second.

Michael moved down Alex’s body, kissing his chin, his neck, his chest, his stomach. Alex moaned as Michael took him in all the way, the electricity shooting up and down his body as Alex took his cock in his own mouth as well. When the two came for the fourth time that night, Michael came back up Alex’s body, and moaned against his lips as he all but devoured his mouth.

Michael thought of all those random pricks that ever touched Alex in bars, all those nameless dates and one-night stands, all getting to touch his airman in ways Michael never could. All those nights ending with Michael in bed with other nameless, faceless bodies that could never compare to Alex, all to forget. And now Michael had him back, in his arms.

“You’re _mine_ ,” he breathed against Alex’s ear. Alex’s nails scratched down his back.

“ _Guerin_ ,” Alex moaned as Michael pressed their bodies together. He loved Alex’s voice, Alex’s breath, Alex’s touch. He loved _him_. Michael wanted to taste every single part of him, breathe in every word, savor it all.

Michael fell onto his back beside him, keeping one arm around his shoulders, one leg thrown over Alex’s.

“Be my boyfriend,” he said, and Alex laughed into his shoulder, his cheeks so red and his smile so shy that Michael couldn’t help but lean in and kiss them.

“Are you asking or telling me?” he said even as his fingers raked through Michael’s chest hair and made Michael heave a deep sigh.

“Telling you,” Michael confessed. “There’s no way I’m letting you leave tomorrow without knowing you’re officially mine.”

Alex shook his head as if wondering how Michael could miss something so blatantly obvious. “I’ve always been officially yours.”

Michael’s heart jumped into his throat and he swallowed it back, pulling Alex against him. “Say it, then. Say it, Alex.”

Alex lightly touched Michael’s jaw, his smile soft and loving, his eyes warm as he whispered, “I’m your boyfriend.”

“You’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

Michael surged forward to kiss him again, Alex’s words still echoing in his head, their hearts racing against one another.


	106. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's stuff is Michael's stuff.

“Have you seen my shirt?” Michael asked, wearing nothing but a towel around his hips.

Alex looked up from his computer, Buffy curled up beside him, and blinked. Michael did not fail to notice the way Alex’s eyes roamed his naked chest, his arms, the towel, then came back up to his face. Michael smirked as Alex looked away with a clear of his throat, his face flushed.

“Private?” Michael said, trying not to laugh. “My shirt?”

“Uh –” Alex said, “I had to put it with the others in the wash.”

Michael sighed, plopping down next to him, spreading his legs as the towel fell a little further down his hips. He slung an arm around Alex’s shoulders.

“Okay,” he said. “No clothes it is.”

“Stop it,” Alex moved away with a laugh. “Just get another shirt!”

“That was my last one,” Michael said in mock complaint and pulled Alex in for a kiss, but the airman lightly slapped his chest.

“What’re you talking about? Just take one from the drawer!”

Michael blinked. “Just… take one of yours?”

Alex stretched his arms over his head. “You don’t want to?”

Michael considered that – wearing Alex’s clothes, like actual boyfriends, smelling like Alex, feeling Alex’s shirt against his skin. He was off the couch and in the bedroom in no time at all, slipping a pale blue Air Force t-shirt on.

He stepped back into the living room, expecting Alex to maybe look shy or uncomfortable at Michael wearing his clothes. But Alex only looked up, blushed, and went back to work.

Michael ran a hand through his damp curls and came to sit beside Alex, pulling the thin blanket off the couch and up to his chest. Alex didn’t seem to notice anything strange about his boyfriend wearing his clothes, but Michael himself felt as if he was stealing from him.

He rested his head on Alex’s shoulder, his thoughts turning silent for a moment as Alex automatically turned his head and pressed a quick kiss to Michael’s forehead, not taking his eyes off the screen for a second.

“You don’t – uh – you don’t think this is a little weird?”

Alex raised a brow. “I’m almost done, do we really want to dive into this now?”

Michael scoffed. “I’m not talking about your work, I’m… I mean, these are… _your_ clothes. _Your_ cabin, _your_ blanket.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex cut him off, his brows furrowed. His fingers were still on the keyboard now, and his voice was tinted with something Michael had not intended to put there; hurt. “I – does it… _bother_ you being here?”

“No, _no_ ,” Michael tried, but Alex had already moved the computer aside and turned on the couch to face Michael. Michael took his hands. “Alex, I _love_ you, I just… feel a little weird taking your things.”

Alex shook his head. “What’re you _talking_ about?”

“I don’t,” he shrugged, his voice turning small, his hands clutching Alex’s tighter. “I don’t have anything to give you. All my things are – are torn, or covered in dirt, or smell like sweat. All _your_ stuff is clean, and ironed, and smells like… well, not sweat.”

Alex laughed, and Michael felt the heaviness in his chest lift slightly at the sound. He scooted closer to Alex, dragging him onto his lap. His arms wrapped around Alex’s waist.

“I just wish I could share something with you.”

Alex held Michael’s face in his hands, and Michael turned his face into his palm, kissing him.

“You’re so stupid,” Alex said. “Every singly part of me is yours. _Clothes_? You’re going to talk to me about _clothes_ now? _Seriously_?” He chuckled like it was the strangest thing he’d ever heard. “I’m yours, my stupid stuff’s yours. Everything’s yours.”

Michael searched his face, and slowly said, “You really mean that.”

Alex sighed, kissing Michael’s lips before pulling himself off the cowboy’s lap. “I love you, but you’re such a loser.”

As he took the laptop again and resumed his work, Michael looked around the cozy little cabin. He was reminded of a time, too long ago now, that Alex had offered him another safe place to stay.

_“Why are you being so nice to me?”_

_“People don’t always have an agenda. They can just be nice to each other sometimes.”_

Michael had always struggled to believe that. He didn’t know if he ever really would, but…

“You want to watch a movie?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. Give me five minutes.”

Michael did not get up to prepare the popcorn or pick out a DVD. He sighed a “Whatever you want, Private,” and snuggled closer to the airman, hooking an arm around his. His eyes closed as he inhaled Alex’s scent.

If nothing else, he thought, Alex was his. That was enough.


	107. Alex x Flint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flint was a good brother once.

It was around the middle of the night when Alex heard the yelling.

It wasn’t new, never surprising, but that never made it any easier to listen to. It never meant it was any easier for him to go back to sleep.

_“I had to check on my research!”_ his father’s voice sounded.

_“No, you_ had _to check on your sons, Jesse!”_ his mother yelled back.

Alex scrunched his shoulders, and after another minute of listening to the screams, Alex got out of bed, his pillow under one arm, his blanket dragged along behind him.

He peeked his head into the hall, and when he didn’t find either of his parents, he snuck across the corridor, opened his brother’s door, and found Flint sitting up against his pillow, still awake. He had headphones on, and the light of his Nintendo screen threw his face into harsh white light and shadows. When he realized Alex had come in, his expression softened.

With a sigh, Flint stretched an arm out, and Alex hesitated. Then something was roughly slammed downstairs, and Alex jumped before he ran to his brother’s side. It took a moment for Flint to convince his brother to release his death grip on his pillow and blanket, and Alex curled against him, watching the small screen.

“You can’t always sneak in here when you get scared,” Flint said. “You have to be braver, Alex. You’ll never win anything if you’re not braver.”

Alex looked up at Flint’s face. Even as he played his video game, his frown was set and his eyes were dark and serious. He was twelve, only three years older than Alex, but sometimes Alex felt as if Flint were thirty, miles ahead of him.

“I _am_ brave,” Alex said with a frown, his voice small. “I just don’t like it when they fight.”

“Dad fights with everybody,” Flint snapped. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re so _stupid_.”

Alex wanted to be angry, to leave his brother’s room in a huff, but he couldn’t find it in him. Maybe it was because Flint always looked at him as if he knew something about him that Alex didn’t, as if he was scared for his little brother, though Alex never dared question why. All of his brothers knew something about him, something they would never talk about as if terrified it would become real if they did, something they were evidently trying to keep from their dad.

“Dad would never fight you,” Alex said. “You’re his favorite.”

Flint stiffened. “Greg’s his favorite.”

“ _Gregory_ ,” Alex corrected. “You know he hates it when you call him Greg.”

“Stupid Greg.”

“Stupid Greg,” Alex agreed after a moment’s pause.

Then Jesse’s yells sounded again, and Alex flinched, tightening his grip on his brother’s arm before he could help it. Flint sighed, and pulled his arm free from Alex’s hold.

“If you cry,” he growled, pulling off his headphones, “I’m kicking you out.”

“I’m not crying,” Alex moaned quietly, roughly wiping his face with his fists. He felt Flint slip the headphones around his own ears, and stilled.

“There,” he could barely make out Flint’s words through the rock music. “No more yelling.”

Alex stared at his brother as he held out his arm for Alex to take again. He was vaguely aware of Flint pulling the blanket he’d brought in from his own room up to his shoulders as he slowly drifted away to darkness.


	108. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some Malex smut.

Michael leaned against the doorframe of Alex’s bedroom, watching the way the sunlight peeking in through the curtains shined against the airman’s bare back, the blanket placed too high upon his hips. Michael bit his lower lip and stepped in.

Michael lied down behind Alex, his fingers raking the airman’s dark, soft hair, then down the nape of his neck, then down his delicious back. He hooked a finger around the blanket and dragged it down.

“There you are,” he breathed against the shell of Alex’s ear as he brought his hand over the smooth skin.

Alex groaned, and muttered sleepily, “You’re a menace.”

“Aren’t I?” Michael smirked, and bit Alex’s shoulder as he pushed a finger in. Alex gasped, clutching his pillow.

“I just woke up, Guerin,” Alex warned as Michael left a trail of kisses on Alex’s shoulder, his neck, his jaw, his cheek, and came to kiss his lips. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

Michael pushed in another finger, and Alex’s mouth fell open. “I don’t care,” Michael whispered hungrily, and pushed his tongue past Alex’s lips.

Alex seemed startled for barely half a second before he brought an arm around Michael shoulders, pulling him in deeper.

Michael sighed against Alex’s lips, reveling in the slide of the airman’s tongue against his own. Alex’s position could not have been too comfortable, but he kissed Michael as if he needed the cowboy’s lips to breathe, and Michael could not get enough of it.

He moved to hover over him, his heart hammering in his chest at the little moans Alex was making against his lips. Michael slipped a hand between them, and Alex bit his lower lip, his nails digging into Michael’s shoulders.

“You like that, baby?”

Alex dug his fingers into Michael’s curls, and the cowboy groaned. “You know I do.”

“Then scream for me,” Michael whispered, and Alex moaned loudly. “I want to hear you.”

Michael pushed in a third finger, grinding his own hardened cock against Alex’s. Alex’s voice rose with every thrust, with every press of Michael’s fingers against his prostate. Michael grunted as Alex screamed, encouraging him with sweet, _filthy_ breaths in his ear.

Alex came a second before Michael did, and the cowboy fingered him until the oversensitivity became too much.

“I love you,” Alex breathed, their foreheads pressed together.

“I love you more,” Michael said, and lean down to kiss Alex’s collarbone and chest.

The room was filled with nothing but the sounds of their heavy breathing. Michael’s eyes fluttered as Alex’s chest rose and fell against his. Then –

“Okay, I need to get up now.”

Michael groaned, and wrapped his arms around Alex’s body, pressing his face into the airman’s. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“ _Michael_ ,” Alex’s voice was muffled as Michael squished their faces together. “ _I can’t stay in bed all day_ – would you get off me?!”

“No!” Michael held on tighter. “I’ll kiss you again!”

“Don’t touch me!” he laughed.

“LET ME KISS YOU!”

“NO!”


	109. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle gets protective of what Alex wants.

Michael’s head was in his hands, the room filled with the sound of the consistent _beep beep beep_ echoing off the white walls. Michael listened carefully for any change. There wasn’t.

He looked up, Alex lying beaten and scratched in his hospital bed, his dark hair splayed against the pillow. There were cuts along his lip, under his eye, and on his jaw and wrists. His fingers were wrapped in white bandages, his arms were a deep red and blue.

“He was strangled,” Kyle had said with a choked voice. “His circulation cut off in multiple areas, and…”

Kyle didn’t finish, and Michael didn’t think he wanted to hear the rest anyway. He’d noticed Kyle had never taken his eyes off the airman, but couldn’t let it bother him too long. Alex was hurt, Alex was here and in front of him after _days_ of being trapped in a bunker with his psychotic father. Alex wasn’t waking up.

“How much longer?” Michael asked when Kyle came in for the third time in the past fifteen minutes.

“I don’t know, Guerin,” Kyle said wearily. There were dark circles around his eyes, and just as he’d been doing since Alex had been brought in, Kyle stared at the airman. He looked like he was going to be sick, but as he came to check on Alex, his hands were as steady as always.

Michael realized his own hands had been clenched to tight fists in his lap, and loosened them. Maybe he was just imagining the desperate fear in Kyle’s eyes. He looked at Alex, after all, as Michael was sure _he_ had been looking at Alex himself. But they couldn’t be the same. Michael was in love with the airman, and Kyle….

“When we got to the bunker,” Michael started slowly, his eyes on Alex, “and the Private was gone, and all those bodies –”

“He was protecting himself,” Kyle said fiercely, his eyes sharp, as if daring Michael to say a bad word about Alex.

Michael glared. “ _Don’t_ think you know Alex better than I do. I would’ve killed them myself after what they did to him.” He paused, unable to keep the question in, “But you knew where we’d find him after he escaped. How?”

“It’s Alex,” Kyle said, and at Michael’s stares, he sighed. “I’ve been with him for two years, I know how he thinks. He took the rational route. He always does.”

_I’ve been with him._ Michael tried not to let the double meaning of the words get to him. Alex was _his_. He and Michael weren’t official, but they were both single as they were always bound to be, and Alex wouldn’t be with anyone else if Michael was waiting for him. He _wouldn’t_.

Michael’s eyes fell to the stitches on Alex’s forehead, now keeping together a gash that was going to be a scar soon. And he felt sick.

“When will his fingers heal?” he asked, unable to help the crack in his voice.

Kyle lightly brushed back Alex’s bangs, and Michael’s fingers dug into his jeans. “He broke all of his nails trying to claw his way out. It’ll take a few weeks, but the skin might be a little scarred –”

“Okay, stop, _stop_ ,” Michael said, quickly getting to his feet. He rubbed his face and sighed into his hands. He tried to look back at Alex, focus on the man’s beautiful face, trying to remember the beautiful smile that never seemed to be directed at Michael, but _always_ free and genuine around Kyle. Michael’s nails dug into his palms.

The room was too silent, the beeping too consistent, but not enough to wake the airman up. Alex’s eyelashes curled against his cheeks, the ventilator pushing air into his lungs but not enough to make the discoloration in his skin go away. Alex did not move a single bandaged finger, did not mutter a single word. Michael couldn’t pretend he was just sleeping.

He turned to leave – he needed some air, he needed to be away from this room, he needed a drink, _any_ distraction – then he felt Kyle take hold of his wrist.

“Sit back down,” Kyle said steadily, his deathlike grip on Michael’s wrist tightening.

“Let me go, Valenti.”

Kyle’s eyes flashed. “He _needs_ you!”

“I can’t just sit here and watch him,” Michael said. “I can’t –”

“This isn’t about you!” he snapped, and Michael turned silent. “It’s about _Alex_. And if he wakes up, after _everything_ he’s done, and _you’re_ not here, it’ll kill him, Guerin.”

Michael shook his head feebly, “He – he has you –”

“If I could take your place, I would,” Kyle said angrily. “I’d do anything for him, I –” he cut himself off with a sound as if he was choking himself. He looked down at Alex, and as he forced himself away, Michael saw for the first time that the doctor’s hands were trembling.

“He loves you,” Kyle said, as if the words were poison. “More than you could imagine, and _more_ than you love him, so whether you _feel_ like it or not, you’re going to sit your ass back down, and be here when he wakes up.” He huffed. “Okay?”

Michael searched Kyle’s face a moment before his eyes fell back to Alex. Did Alex know? Did Alex know what was painted so clearly on Kyle for everyone to see? If he did, why didn’t he ever say anything to Michael about it?

Then the painful thought stabbed at Michael’s heart; maybe Alex never noticed Kyle’s feelings because he only ever had eyes for one person. Michael clenched his jaw, his eyes burning. Kyle seemed to know he had won because he let go of Michael’s wrist.

Michael moved to take his seat again as Kyle crossed the room to the door.

“He’ll wake up. He has to,” Kyle said in a voice barely over a whisper before he opened the door and left.

Michael reached forward and gently took Alex’s hand in his as a tear rolled down his cheek.


	110. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael tells Alex that he wants to ask Maria out.

“I wanna ask Maria out,” Michael said, and Alex stopped.

The words echoed against the dark walls, and Alex’s heart vibrated in his chest. He thought for a moment the building might collapse and kill only him. Or maybe he just wanted it to.

Alex had had the access into this big dark facility, and he’d left the others in the main room to deal with Noah. When he said he had to leave for work, he hadn’t expected Michael to follow him out into the hall, and he definitely hadn’t expected those words to leave the cowboy’s lips.

Alex slowly turned to him, the straps of his backpack digging into his shoulders painfully now. Did they always hurt this much?

“What?”

Michael looked for a moment like he might take the words back, and Alex found himself unsure whether he wanted that, but Michael braced himself – as if afraid Alex might actually _hit_ him or something – and said, “I wanna – I wanna ask Maria out.”

Alex’s brows furrowed slightly. His mouth felt dry. “Why are you telling me this?”

Michael took a step closer to Alex, and the airman resisted the urge to step back. “Because I want you to know. Because I… I want you to be okay with it.”

Alex shook his head and turned away. Was Michael doing this on purpose? Was he still angry with Alex? Was he still trying to hurt him? Alex tightened his grip on the straps of his backpack. He didn’t understand, he thought he and Michael were friends now.

“Alex?”

Michael’s voice was tentative, _worried_ , and Alex shut his eyes tight against it. His heart thrashed painfully against his chest, a lump grew in his throat and made it hard for him to breathe. He was an Air Force Captain, he knew hardships and difficulties, he knew misery and pain, but one word from Michael always seemed to cut a new scar in his heart and make him want to cry.

If Alex didn’t get out of there now, he realized, his heart might just stop.

“You don’t need my permission, Guerin,” Alex said roughly. “Do whatever you want.”

He got away before Michael could call him back.

Michael parked his truck in front of the airstream, shut off the engine, and sat back in his seat, staring ahead into nothing. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Alex, but the airman wouldn’t care if Michael wanted to see someone else, would he? He never really liked Michael anyway… did he?

_“But you are mine!”_

Michael remembered the way Alex had come to get him at Caulfield, had refused to leave without him, even if that meant death. The way Alex had held him, had kept him steady on his feet, had helped clear his thoughts as he always did, while messing them all up at the same time. His Alex –

“No, Alex doesn’t love me,” he said aloud. Alex _couldn’t_. He was a soldier, a Captain – _a Manes_ , Michael’s thoughts whispered and he shoved them down, guilt already making its way to his chest. Michael didn’t think of Alex like his brothers and father. Alex was better, Alex was just Alex, he wasn’t a Manes… _he wasn’t_.

Michael was snapped out of his thoughts when he saw headlights shining in the night sky, and he realized it was Alex’s car. With a frown and racing heart, Michael stepped out of his truck at the same time Alex came up to him.

“Alex –”

“I care about you,” Alex said a little breathlessly, as if he’d been repeating the words to himself the entire drive here, working up the courage to say them. As if the simple truth terrified him, but he was pushing past it anyway. He always seemed to do that around Michael.

Michael said nothing.

“I care about you, and I… I…” Alex huffed, pressing the bottoms of his palms into his eyes before he put his hands back down and said, “and I love you. And you know that. And I want you to be good for someone, and I hate that it’s not me, but I want – I _want_ you to be happy, Guerin, and I don’t usually get what I want, but I _will_ get this. I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me, but I can’t –”

Alex shook his head, “I can’t _tell_ you to go be with someone else, and I can’t be okay with it, I can only suck it up, so don’t make me say it, don’t make me encourage you to go to someone else, I can’t give you my damn _blessings_ because I can handle _hard_ , Guerin, and I can handle impossible, but this – what you want me to do – it’s just cruel, and it’ll _kill_ me, so don’t tell me that crap again. I have feelings, too, and they can take a lot, but you’re my breaking point.” He sighed, and Michael was shocked to see a tear fall down his cheek. “You’re my breaking point, Guerin, so – okay?”

Michael was so shocked to see Alex so miserable before him, so full of pain and grief at a love lost that he found he could do nothing but silently nod.

Alex nodded, too, wiping his face roughly with a sniff. Michael wanted to cry. He wanted to close the distance between them and take Alex in his arms. He wanted to touch and kiss the airman until there could be no doubt who he loved. He wanted Alex to know Michael could never possibly love anyone else, and _never_ like he loved Alex.

But as he took a step towards Alex, the airman turned back to his car.

Michael took another step, his voice desperate to his own ears when he called, “Alex!”

Alex stopped and slowly turned to face him, his brows furrowed in confusion at what Michael could possibly have to say to him. But what _did_ Michael have to say? He didn’t know, he just….

“Alex… Alex….”

 _He wanted to say Alex’s name._ Alex Manes, _his_ Alex. Not a _Manes Man_ , just Alex Manes.

Alex, however, seemed not to notice that desire threatening to consume Michael, and his face fell slightly before he turned around, got in his car, and drove away.


	111. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on that IG video of Vlamis giving Tyler a massage.

“Stop laughing!”

“I’m sorry,” Alex continued to laugh as Michael’s fingers dug into his shoulders. It had felt good, _really_ good to feel Michael’s skin against his, Michael massaging his muscles, Michael so closely pressed against him. But maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the burn in his eyes from staring at a screen all day, maybe it was the sheer happiness at having the cowboy beside him – whatever the reason, Alex had sighed contentedly into the massage for the first few minutes, then started to giggle, then started to laugh.

“Do you not want me to touch you, or…?” Normally, a statement like that would’ve had Alex’s heart climbing into his throat, it would’ve made him nervous that Michael might move away, but the cowboy seemed unable to refrain from giggling himself.

“No no no,” Alex said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t – I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“How are you laughing and still so _tense_ at the same time?” At that, Michael dug his fingers deeper into Alex’s shoulders, his thumbs brushing Alex’s neck and slipping below his shirt. Alex’s heart raced in his chest at the heat, but it did nothing to help calm his smile.

“Stop,” Alex shook his head. “Stop, stop, stop, it’s over.”

“No, I like hearing you laugh,” Michael said, and the two stilled for just a moment. Alex panted as the laugh finally, _finally_ started to subside. Michael seemed to realize this, and instead of letting his hands fall from Alex’s shoulders, he rested them there, letting Alex roll them beneath his fingers.

“Thanks, I – I feel better now,” Alex finally said when he realized Michael had still not let go, and patted Michael’s hands for good measure. The cowboy still did not release him.

So Alex sat a long while with Michael standing against his back, his hands warm on Alex’s skin even through the thin fabric of his shirt. When the cowboy had first suggested giving Alex a massage, Alex had thought he was joking, but as Michael approached him with a shy smile, Alex realized this was Michael’s way of thanking him for everything he was doing; the late nights, the facility access, the extra strength and intelligence.

_He’s just trying to pay me back_ , Alex reminded himself. It was nothing more than that. Still, even as Alex was grateful to laugh again, after what felt like so long a time of anger and sorrow and misery consuming him, he couldn’t help but subtly lean back against Michael’s hips, inhaling his scent. It brought a fresh pain to his chest, to know Michael wasn’t his, that Alex couldn’t have him the way he wanted, but he’d spent his entire life learning to live with good enough. He could do it again now.

“Okay,” he said with a chuckle that suddenly felt forced in a way his laugh hadn’t been. “Let me go, Guerin.”

Michael’s hands suddenly tightened on Alex’s shoulders. Alex looked up and saw – to his surprise – an unreadable expression on the cowboy’s face.

“Guerin?” his voice was soft. “Er… you can let me go now.”

“Let you go,” Michael muttered, and Alex blinked as Michael’s arms suddenly came down to wrap around his shoulders, his chin on Alex’s shoulder, his cheek pressed against the airman’s.

Alex’s heart hammered in his chest, and he didn’t dare reach up to hold onto Michael. Michael said nothing as he stood there, pressed against Alex, his hold on him tight. Alex had told Michael that he could let him go – it only now occurred to Alex that Michael might not want to.


	112. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael sees Alex cry, and confronts him about it.

Michael tapped a finger against his file, glancing at Alex every so often, but the airman seemed preoccupied with his own work. Always busy, always looking ahead, always focused.

Except this time, he wasn’t really. And Michael knew only because of what he’d seen earlier that day.

He’d come to the hospital where Kyle worked to ask if there were any new developments on the research on Noah’s body, and as he passed a hall, he saw someone he had never expected to find in this cold, draining place; Alex Manes.

Michael came to an abrupt stop as Alex came out of a room, closing the door behind him.

“Private?” Michael had muttered and took one step towards him, wondering what the airman could be doing in a hospital, who he could be visiting, when Alex nearly stumbled and fell onto a chair with a wince.

Michael had stopped, his eyes widening as Alex’s angry scowl (he seemed to always frown nowadays) turned more miserable than anything else, and his eyes filled with tears.

The circles around Alex’s eyes were dark, he looked thinner than usual, as if he hadn’t eaten – _had he always looked like that?_ Michael wondered – and as he hugged himself with one arm, his other hand coming up to hide his eyes, Michael realized Alex was crying.

He had wanted to run to him, to put his arms around him and tell him everything was going to be okay, as he had done with Maria and Isobel, but… this was _Alex_. Alex didn’t cry, Alex didn’t lose control, Alex never let anyone who he cared about know he was upset. Then Michael had remembered that Alex didn’t know he was there, and he moved back, keeping hidden behind the corner.

Alex had soon regained his composure, wiping his face roughly with his hands and slumping back in his seat, thoroughly exhausted. Michael had watched him until he’d gotten up.

He had expected Kyle to come into the bunker with some excuse as to why Alex couldn’t be there. But no, the airman had walked in as he always did, facing ahead. He sat down working as if he hadn’t been crying hours before, as if he hadn’t nearly collapsed outside a hospital room that Michael only now remembered he’d never asked about.

“Hey,” Michael said so softly at the same time Alex had closed yet another file that Alex didn’t seem to hear him. He cleared his throat and tried again, “Alex.”

“Hm?” Alex didn’t look at him, his eyes scanning the paper instantly as if he couldn’t and _wouldn’t_ give Michael his full attention, as if afraid it would leave room in his mind for other things.

Michael searched for the right words. Could he tell Alex he’d seen him today at the hospital? In the end, he settled for a shrug, hoping it helped him seem casual. “Just thinking you might wanna call it a day.”

Alex’s hands stilled on the paper, and he looked up at Michael. His eyes were unfocused, twitching to Michael’s right as if he kept seeing something over the cowboy’s shoulder. Had Michael really never noticed that Alex was so tired?

“Am I bothering being here or something? Because I – I thought we were okay.”

“What – no, _no_ , Alex, I,” Michael shook his head. He couldn’t believe Alex was so afraid of his words. Was he really that scared of losing him?

He wanted to reach out and touch Alex, to brush the back of his hand against the airman’s rosy cheek, to reassure him that he _always_ wanted Alex beside him, but he didn’t do any of that stuff. Alex was the only person in the world Michael could keep himself from touching.

“You just – you look a little tired, that’s all.”

Alex searched his face a moment; Michael often thought that when Alex looked at him, he could look into his soul. Then the airman’s frown deepened. “I… so I look bad?”

Michael blinked. “W-what? _No_! Not – not _bad_ , but –”

“Untidy?” He covered his face with both hands. “I must look so awful.”

“You look great, you always look great!” This was bad. Michael was starting to panic. Since when did Alex act like this, so insecure and embarrassed? It was strange how it made his heart ache. “Alex, you – you’re….”

“Are you hesitating because you can’t think of a nice way to tell me that I look… _tired_?” his voice cracked. “Or are you just tired of seeing me?”

“No, never, I – Alex, come on, you know I…” Michael’s words trailed off as Alex’s miserable frown tugged at the corners. The bastard was _laughing_.

Michael sighed. “You son of a bitch.”

Alex burst into laughter, his head falling onto the desk as his shoulders shook, his joy echoing against the dark walls of the bunker where laughter had not been heard in too long a time.

“You were so panicked!” Alex doubled over, his smile wide and tears were streaming down his face. Not the same tears he’d suffered earlier that day. These also came from exhaustion, Michael could tell, but they weren’t as miserable or afraid. “I felt so bad!”

“NOT BAD ENOUGH!” Michael snapped, unable to help the smile at his own lips. “You just let me keep going, Alex!”

Alex’s laugh turned louder, he sounded like he might choke but he didn’t care. “I’m sorry, it was so…” He sat up with a deep groan, wiping the tears from his face. “It was just what I needed.”

“Me flailing like a fish out of water was what you needed?”

“No,” Alex sighed, that beautiful smile still on his face. “I’ve been facing angry masks all day. I didn’t want to see you pretend not to care again.” His smile widened. “I got you to show me something real. _That_ was what I needed.”

Michael’s grin faltered. “You’re so sure I’m always lying to you about how I feel?”

Michael regretted the words as soon as they left his lips if only for the way Alex’s smile dimmed. “I always lie to you. I pretend nothing you do gets to me.”

Michael held his gaze, his heart hammering in his chest now. “Is that why you were crying today? Because something I said got to you?”

Alex didn’t seem surprised that Michael knew. “So it _was_ you I saw leaving.”

“Why were you crying, Alex?”

Alex’s expression faltered – it was only a second, and if Michael didn’t know him as well as he did, he might have missed it. But Michael _did_ know him, so he noticed.

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I was upset about something, and I… don’t think I should’ve been. And then I was angry for being upset, and –” he broke off, his eyes turning glassy despite the smile. He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and shook his head, as if ridding himself of the urge to cry again. “I’m okay now.”

Michael did not believe him. He must have looked it, too, because Alex’s expression softened. “You want a tell?”

“A what?”

Alex took a deep breath, as if preparing to confess a long kept secret. “When I’m sad, and I’m really not okay, I’ll keep saying it over and over, even if no one’s asking. It’s because I’m trying to talk myself into feeling better.”

Michael realized he hadn’t responded in a long time, and he tried to speak only to find a lump in his throat. “D-does it work?”

 _Damn it_ , he thought. Why was he stuttering? Why was he so nervous?

Alex’s smile was kind, but he didn’t answer. He shrugged. “Now you know my secret. You’ll know when I’m really upset even when I say I’m not. So you see? I really am okay now.”

And Michael understood why he was nervous. Alex was trusting him with this. Even Kyle would have to poke and prod, and he’d never get the real answer. Alex was _giving_ Michael his tell, Michael would be the only one to know the truth. Alex, who hated crying in front of anyone, who tried never to do it no matter the circumstance, who had once cried in front of Michael and stopped long ago.

“I’ll wear my hat low,” Michael said. “And I’ll try to hurt you. Not just anyone, I’ll really try to hurt _you_ , Alex. That’s _my_ tell.”

Alex scoffed and he looked away, his cheeks red. “I already know your tell, stupid. _Most_ of what you say doesn’t get to me.”

They were silent for a long time, then Michael said, “I’m sorry.”

Alex sighed as he returned to his file, his eyes sparkling as he glanced at Michael. “Yeah. Me, too.”


	113. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds out Alex gave Forrest his guitar.

The air in the truck fell to below zero as Alex’s phone rang into the silence. He had barely managed to convince Michael that they needed Forrest’s help. Michael had relented with an overly casual… ah – _suggestion_ that Alex keep the call on speakerphone.

“Alex!” Forrest’s voice sounded cheerfully, and Alex noticed Michael’s hands tighten on his steering wheel. “I was hoping to hear from you today.”

“Yeah, it – it’s,” Alex cleared his throat, then quickly said, “it’s good to hear your voice, listen,” he went on even as he felt Michael turn to glare at him. “I need to see you tonight. It’s for –”

“Whoa, Captain,” he chuckled. “At least buy me dinner first.”

“Hey, I’m here, too!” Michael suddenly exclaimed just as cheerfully despite his twitching eye. “Remember _me_ , buddy?”

A pause, then, “Guerin’s there. Of course Guerin’s there.”

Alex should’ve left it. He should’ve gone to the point and let Michael keep his smug little smirk. But Forrest sounded so disappointed that Alex wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have all of Alex’s attention; it was strange, that someone so clearly wanted to talk to only him, that someone could sound so happy one moment to know they had Alex all to themselves, and then have that happiness crumble when they found out that wasn’t true.

Without thinking, Alex said, “He’s just dropping me off home. Hey, can you meet us there?”

“Yeah?” Forrest already sounded better.

“ _What_?” Michael hissed, but Alex ignored him.

“Yeah, we – er – we need your help on a case, but we don’t _have_ to do it tonight.”

“Alex,” Michael whispered, his voice low and threatening. “What are you doing?”

“If we get started now and finish early, I mean,” Alex took a deep breath, trying very hard to avoid Michael’s death glare and the fact that the cowboy had pulled up to the side of the road. “I won’t have anything to do tonight. Maybe we can hang out?”

“Really?”

Alex’s heart raced in his chest and he was well aware that he was slowly turning in his seat, away from Michael. He wanted to think that it was because Michael was watching him so intently, but the idea of seeing Forrest again, of having someone to laugh with, of having someone who could only ever make him smile – he had to confess – was a little exciting.

“No,” Michael said before Alex could respond. “He’s joking –”

“Yeah,” Alex said, elbowing him. “I – I know you’re busy, you don’t _have_ to –”

“No, I can – I can be there, I – I mean, I’m always _super_ busy, but I can make time for you, Captain.”

“If he calls you _Captain_ one more time,” Michael growled.

“And Alex,” Forest said, “I’ll bring the guitar.”

Both Alex and Michael stilled. Alex felt time freeze as Michael moved his eyes from Alex to Alex’s phone, as if hoping his piercing gaze would get through to Forrest.

“What guitar?” he asked before Alex could stop him.

“Right, Guerin, you’re still there,” Forrest said with less enthusiasm. “I – er – play the guitar.”

“Oh,” Michael started nodding. “That’s –”

“And Alex had this one he wasn’t using lying around,” Forrest finished. “So he gave it to me. Alex, maybe we can jam out tonight. Just you and me?”

Alex nodded, then remembered Forrest couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he started, “that sounds –” But before he could finish, Michael reached over and disconnected the call. “Wh – _Guerin_!”

“You gave him your guitar?”

Michael wasn’t looking at him, but for some reason, Alex still felt the shame of his gaze on him. He straightened. “I wasn’t using it.” Michael said nothing. “I _tried_ giving it to you, Guerin, and you didn’t want it.”

Michael started up the truck and glared ahead. Alex sighed, slumping down in his seat. If Michael was going to stay angry at him, Alex wasn’t going to beg him to listen. Alex had told him to take the guitar, more than once, and now he was acting as if Alex had betrayed him.

“You can stay, too,” Alex offered.

“I’d hate to get in the way of your date,” Michael said bitterly, and Alex pursed his lips. _Of course_. “Besides,” he went on, his voice softer, “he sounded like he really just wanted to be with you.”

They drove in silence, Alex stealing glances at Michael who seemed lost in thought. When they finally came to a stop in front of Alex’s cabin, the airman looked to Michael, half-expecting some parting words. When it became clear Michael wouldn’t say anything, Alex sighed and opened the truck door.

“Why’d you give him the guitar?” Michael suddenly asked, and Alex froze.

“What?”

“Why’d you give him the guitar?” he repeated. “Why _him_?”

Alex searched Michael’s face a moment, then, “I spent a long time trying to convince you I wasn’t the bad guy, Guerin. I guess the difference between you guys is that…” Alex shrugged, “he believed me.”

Michael looked at Alex as if the airman had slapped him. Alex looked away. He was so tired of the guilt, the pain that came with Michael’s eyes, the feeling that Alex himself had put it there. It wasn’t his responsibility to fix Michael’s world, he thought. No matter how much he loved him.

Alex stepped out and shut the door behind him, his hands turned to fists in his jacket pockets as he made his way to his front door. He stopped halfway and looked over his shoulder to see if Michael had followed. He had.

When Alex slipped the key inside the keyhole, the sounds of Buffy’s barking sounding on the inside at her owner’s return, Michael suddenly took Alex’s arm, his grip tight.

“The nicknames are mine,” he said quietly, though Alex felt his voice vibrate throughout his entire body. “They’re _mine_ , Alex.”

_You’re mine_ , Alex heard despite himself. _As long as I have this one thing to myself, then you’ll be mine. Then there’s hope for us._

Alex wordlessly nodded as he opened the door.


	114. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex notices the airstream in the Wild Pony parking lot.

Alex tightened his coat around him, his breaths turning to little clouds before his face as he crossed the distance of the Wild Pony parking lot.

He set his hand on the door handle, the smell of food and drinks and warmth wafting from the inside. Alex heard muffled chatter and laughter and music, and his lips were just beginning to quirk into a smile when he caught sight of a familiar airstream in the parking lot and he stilled.

His brows furrowed as his eyes followed the familiar doors and windows. That was _Michael’s_ airstream. At the Wild Pony.

Alex’s hand on the handle tightened as he looked through the window. There they were, Liz and Kyle, Max and Isobel, and seated across the bar from Maria, was Michael. They were laughing with each other about something Alex couldn’t hear. He looked back to the airstream, then checked his phone. No one had texted him to come join them, no one was asking where he was, no one was checking in on him.

But it was fine, wasn’t it? They knew Alex was busy with his searches, they’d call if they needed something. They always call if they need something.

Alex looked back to his friends, and realized; no seat had been saved for him. If he went in there, he’d have to drag a chair to the group, and sit… where? There was no place in the small circle.

Alex’s shoulders slumped. His eyes were already so tired, his muscles ached from standing and moving around with his team all day, then sitting in front of the computer all night. Alex watched Michael laugh about something, the way his eyes went to Maria, and his heart fell into his stomach and his eyes burned.

Alex let his hand fall from the handle. He really was too tired to spend the night drinking. He scrunched his shoulders against the wind and sniffled, turning back towards his car. Once inside, he sent a quick text to Kyle to tell him he was just going to head home from the bunker, and with a final glance at the airstream, he drove home.

Alex didn’t think he’d be back for a long time.


	115. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is jealous over Forrest and Alex.

“We’re still on for tonight?”

Michael stopped behind the library door. When he and Alex had struggled to find some missing pieces in the 1947 files, Alex had told Michael that he might have known of someone who could help. Michael had not expected Alex to bring them to a historian, and could _never_ have expected that historian to have blue hair.

Still, something about the guy had left Michael uneasy, despite Alex’s apparent trust in him. Or maybe it was _because_ of Alex’s trust in him. Now, as Michael stood outside the room, unseen, listening to Forrest speak so fondly to his airman, everything made sense.

“Er – yeah,” Alex said in a more hushed tone, as if afraid of Michael hearing them. “Yeah, definitely.”

“What is this stuff, Alex?” Forrest asked. “All this research into the crash –”

“I told you,” Alex said. “Michael had a great grandfather who was part of the unit that handled it. He wants to know what happened to him.”

Michael leaned in. He’d never heard Alex say his name before. He never realized how _good_ it sounded.

“Yeah, Michael,” Forrest said, his voice dimmer.

“Come on,” Alex sighed. “We’re just friends.”

Michael’s eye twitched. He hated that word.

“Alex, he kept looking at you.”

“So?”

“ _So_ , _I_ have friends, too, and if any of them watched me the way he watches you, I’d be concerned.”

Silence. Michael’s frown deepened. He didn’t realize he’d been watching Alex. Had Alex noticed? Did other people notice? If Maria did, she never said anything.

“Would you stop smiling?” Forrest suddenly laughed.

“I can’t help it,” Alex laughed himself, and Michael’s heart fell into his stomach. It had been so long since he’d heard Alex laugh. Somehow, he never thought that the next time he’d hear it, it wouldn’t be for him.

“You’re so cute when you’re jealous,” Alex continued. Michael clenched his jaw.

“Yeah? Then I must be adorable,” he drawled, and Michael couldn’t help it. He leaned in even closer, trying to see into the room. He felt his breath catch in his throat as Forrest’s arms wrapped around Alex’s waist, and Alex actually _let_ him, his hands curled to fists on Forrest’s chest.

“You’re a lot more than adorable,” Alex said softly, giggling quietly as Forrest tried to chase his lips. The way he _looked_ at Alex, a way Michael assumed only _he_ had only ever looked at Alex.

But no. No one could ever love Alex the way Michael did, _no one_ valued him as much as Michael did.

“Look, I know we haven’t been together long,” Forrest said, “but I – I don’t know, Alex, I _like_ you. And we’re good together, aren’t we?”

_Say no_ , Michael thought desperately. _Say no, Alex._ He could feel his powers begging to be released, to blow the door off its hinges, to grab Alex and run far away from this place. But he couldn’t expose himself. Alex would never forgive him for it.

“I think so,” Alex said quietly, and Michael saw Forrest’s smile widen, as if Alex was the most-unexpected and greatest gift he could’ve ever gotten. Michael knew what that felt like. Forrest leaned in, and Michael couldn’t take it.

He pushed the door open and Alex, startled, nearly jumped away from Forrest. He might’ve done it, too, if Forrest hadn’t been holding onto him so tightly. At the sight of Michael, however, his expression dimmed, and though his hold on Alex loosened, he let his hand linger on Alex’s waist as if to tell Michael, _Yeah, we’re together, and he’s mine, so don’t touch him._

Michael clenched his jaw so tightly, he thought he could taste blood.

“Alex,” he said, though his glare was on Forrest. “Time to go.”

Alex looked to Forrest who was holding Michael’s glare as if there was nothing the cowboy could’ve done to _ever_ make him move away from Alex, and Michael just barely resisted the urge to reach out and take Alex by the arm.

Alex seemed to realize the farmhouse would not be in one piece if he didn’t listen, and with a hand on Forrest’s arm, he thanked his friend for his help, and gestured at Michael to follow him to the door.

Michael kept his glare even as he turned and left, even as he got into his truck and started the engine, even as he drove away from the farmhouse with Alex at his side.

“So you’re seeing someone,” he said into the silence when Forrest and everything attached to him were finally out of sight.

Alex hummed.

“How long?”

“About two weeks,” Alex said, watching the scenery go by outside.

Michael’s hand tightened on the wheel. He forced a smirk to his lips and scoffed, the words barely said and already like poison on his tongue. “Well, I bet he –”

“Stop,” Alex said. He was calm, but his voice held an edge that warned Michael he wouldn’t like what happened if he kept going. “You don’t get to finish that sentence.”

Michael’s finger twitched, but he said nothing.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Alex defended, and Michael pursed his lips.

“If you say so.”

A pause, then Alex pulled at the door handle. “Let me out.”

Michael frowned. “We’re not anywhere near your cabin yet –”

“I don’t care,” he said, his eyes avoiding Michael’s. “I’d rather walk home.”

“Would you sit still and _stop it_ , I’m not leaving you to walk!

“Then take me back to Forrest please,” he said, and Michael snapped. All the locks on all the doors suddenly clicked and the truck was driving itself as Michael turned in his seat, taking Alex’s shoulders tightly in his hands.

“So what? You get a new boyfriend, and you don’t need me anymore? Huh?!”

“Get off me!” 

“What does he have that I don’t?”

“Stop it, Guerin!”

“You won’t even say my _name_ , but you’ll let _him_ touch you?” Michael scoffed. “And you’re so _protective_ of him, too. You know, Private, I was just gonna say that he seems like a –”

“When you told me you liked Maria, it killed me,” Alex said abruptly, and Michael fell silent, his smirk gone. “It took everything, _everything_ , I had not to fall apart. I smiled for you, and I said I got it. For _you_ , understand? So you won’t talk about Forrest, you won’t say a word about him, for _me_. You will be as kind to me as I was to you. And _this_ , _Guerin_ ,” he seethed, his eyes glassy, his voice barely above a whisper, “this is not kind.”

Michael realized he was gripping Alex tightly enough to bruise, and he slowly let him go. Alex made no other attempt to reach for the door, but he slumped in his seat as if the confession had drained him.

A tear fell down Alex’s cheek, and the truck came to a stop. Michael watched him, shocked. He wasn’t an idiot, he had _known_ that Alex had been hurt when the cowboy had talked about Maria, but Alex was such a good actor, _so_ good at hiding away who he was and what he was feeling, that Michael started to think that maybe Alex really never cared that much about him if he could mask his feelings so easily.

Michael then realized with a pain like a knife wound in his chest that he had become to Alex what everyone else was; a reason to lie.

“I – I’m sorry, Alex,” Michael said quietly as he started the truck up again, his hands on the wheel. “Don’t cry, I’m sorry.”

Alex sniffled, wiping a hand across his face. In a subdued voice that Michael realized with another painful stab he had become too accustomed to hearing without having noticed, Alex said, “I’m fine.”

_No, you’re not_ , Michael wanted to say, tightening his grip on his steering wheel. But he couldn’t say it. He was terrified that if he tried confronting Alex with the truth, Alex wouldn’t give it to him.


	116. Malex & Forrest x Alex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Forrest get into an accident, and Michael's upset that Alex is asking for Forrest when he wakes up in a hospital.

Alex woke to white walls and a bright light that burned his eyes.

As he had slept, one face had come to mind; a kind face, with warm eyes and an even warmer smile, his hair bluer than the ocean’s depths. He muttered a name, a stranger’s not too long ago and now as familiar to him as his own.

His voice came out hoarse, his throat ached, and almost instantly, he heard the voice and saw the outline of gold curls that made his head hurt and his heart ache more than anything else these days.

“Alex,” he breathed, relief evident in his voice. “Hey, you’re awake – _careful_ , don’t get up yet.”

“Forrest,” Alex said again as soon as he felt himself able to breathe properly, a throbbing pain in his temples and waist. He reached up to touch his forehead only to find a bandage wrapped around his head, too caught up in trying to remember what had happened and why he was here to notice that Michael’s smile had turned to a deep frown.

“Er – _careful_ , Private,” he chuckled as Alex tried to force himself up into a sitting position again, but it sounded forced and uncomfortable.

“Where’s Forrest? I was with Forrest,” Alex persisted. “Is – is he hurt? I – I can’t – what _happened_?”

“ _Alex_ ,” Kyle exhaled as he came in, a hand on his chest. “You’re awake. Good.”

“Why am I – _stop it,_ Guerin, I can sit up by myself – Kyle, why am I here?”

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Kyle held up his hands as if it would calm Alex down. But nothing would calm him now, nothing but seeing Forrest, _knowing_ he was okay and in better condition than Alex was. “You were in a car crash –”

“ _Car crash_?” But even as Alex said it, he heard the sound of breaking metal, shattered glass, Forrest yelling his name, his arm out to protect him. “Is Forrest okay?”

Michael’s frown deepened, his brows furrowed as if he couldn’t understand why Alex was talking about his own boyfriend now.

Kyle was nodding. “Forrest is –”

Right then, Forrest burst into the room, his eyes falling on Alex as if he’d been able to see him through the walls and was eager to get to him as quickly as possible.

“Captain, you’re okay.” Forrest sounded so relieved, Alex felt his heart climb into his throat. Forrest had his arm bandaged and a nurse at his heels, insisting he needed the cut on his forehead bandaged as well. He didn’t seem to hear her as he closed the distance between him and Alex, wrapping his arms around the airman’s shoulders tightly.

Alex winced, and Forrest drew back, his expression pained. “Sorry, Cap.”

Alex laughed, and it hurt his ribs, but it was the first happiness and relief he’d felt since waking. He was just about to tell Forrest that he was fine, _better_ now that he was here, but before the words could leave his lips, Michael came in between them, keeping Forrest away with a hand to his chest.

“Back off, you could’ve hurt him.”

Forrest’s smile fell as he met Michael’s glare with his own. “Guerin, I’m not in the mood to deal with you today, would you please get out of the way so I can check on my boyfriend?”

Michael’s eye twitched, as it always did when Forrest called Alex what he was – his _boyfriend_ – and he scoffed. “Alex wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for _your_ crap driving.”

“Some woman just appeared in the middle of the road!” he said angrily, his face red. “What’d you want me to do, run her over? I did what I could!”

To anyone else, he may have seemed prideful, but to Alex – who had come to know him so quickly and so well – the truth was much clearer and much sadder than that. Forrest’s fists trembled at his side. He was flooded with guilt and rage only with himself. He blamed himself for what had happened to Alex.

“Guerin,” Alex tried nudging him aside, but as Forrest took another step closer to him, Michael put a hand to his chest again and kept him back. “Forrest _saved_ us,” he defended. “We could’ve died.”

“No, instead you’re lying here, battered and bruised because _he_ wasn’t quick enough.”

“Stop it,” Alex said. “You can’t – _ah_!” Alex tilted sideways, his hand on his waist as the searing pain in his side became unbearable.

“You’re both stressing him out!” Kyle said, and moved to check his morphine levels. “Either you behave, or you can both leave. That’s not a request!”

Alex was vaguely aware of Michael’s voice repeating his name, Michael’s hands trying to touch his shoulder, Michael’s body trying to inch closer to his – and it all angered Alex beyond words. They’d _had_ their chance to be together, they’d _had_ their chance to care for each other like this, and he’d thrown it away. As much as Alex suffered, Michael had always, _always_ been worth that pain, but Alex wasn’t worth it in return.

Forrest was beaten and cut up, too, but here he was, worried for _Alex_. Alex didn’t want anymore reminders of the cold eyes and even colder words, of smiles and kisses that weren’t his, of petty jealousy that always went nowhere beyond a child’s tantrum of wanting what one couldn’t have.

Alex wanted to be good for someone, too, and he wanted someone to be good for him. He wanted someone who fought for him the way Michael had never bothered to. He wanted Forrest.

“Guerin,” Alex was breathing heavily now, his eyes shut. “Leave.”

Without looking at him, Alex _knew_ Michael’s face had fallen. He wondered if that would ever stop, his ability to read Michael’s thoughts and emotions more easily than his own, then wondered if he ever actually wanted it to.

“Alex,” he said, his words slow and careful. “Listen, I know you’re tired –”

“No, you don’t,” Alex said sharply. _You_ don’t _know how tired I am, you_ don’t _know what it takes me to send you away, you_ don’t _know how badly it will kill me if you’re not here. You_ don’t _know, because if you did, you never would’ve left in the first place._

Michael, it seemed, had heard him anyway. Michael would always be the one who heard him best.

His voice when he spoke again was quiet, pleading. “ _Alex_ –”

“GO AWAY!” Alex snapped, shutting his eyes tighter against it all. “I’m exhausted and in pain, and I want to be with my boyfriend, just LEAVE!”

A pin-drop silence followed, and it was only until after Alex felt a soft hand barely brush back his hair, after he heard receding footsteps, after the door shut that he realized he was clenching his jaw painfully tight.

His eyes burned, but there no light to blame this time, and he felt a dip in the bed beside him. A hand came around the side of his head, carefully avoiding his bandages – _Forrest_ , Alex thought – and gently pulled Alex’s head onto his shoulder.

Alex wanted to say he was fine, that nothing hurt anymore, but it would’ve been a terrible, _terrible_ lie. Everything hurt. Everything burned. Everything killed him.

He opened his mouth to attempt to be reassuring, but no sooner had his lips parted than a sound horrifyingly close to a sob escaped. Forrest raked his fingers softly through Alex’s hair, and Alex turned to press his face into his boyfriend’s chest.

“I’ve got you, Cap,” Forrest said, and for the first time in too long a time to remember, Alex allowed himself to trust that he was safe. “I’ve got you.”


	117. Malex & Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds out Alex likes Kyle.

Alex was checking his phone more often than usual.

Michael wanted to pretend he didn’t care, that he didn’t even _notice_ the slightest change in Alex’s behavior, but the airman was a piece of his heart; if it was shifted even slightly, Michael would know.

All day, he’d kept it within reach, his eyes snapping to it whenever a _ting_ went off, checking it every ten minutes to make sure he hadn’t missed any texts or calls. Michael had leaned back in his seat with his eyes on Alex’s phone every time the screen lit up, hoping to see the name flashing, the name that Alex kept smiling at, the name Alex kept looking forward to.

It was only when Alex had taken to carry the files they’d already gone through to the storage room that he seemed to have forgotten his phone on the table. There was a loud shuffling noise inside the small room when the phone alerted Alex to a new text, so Alex hadn’t noticed.

Michael pretended to care about what he was reading, but the longer Alex took, the harder and harder it got to keep himself from checking. Another text appeared, and Michael couldn’t take it. He got up, and as Alex was coming hurriedly out of the storage room, Michael took his phone.

“Er – thanks, Guerin, I’ve got it,” Alex said as he snatched the phone from Michael’s hands. He was trying to sound casual, but Michael knew him too well, and identified the fear in his voice right away. He was nervous, but Michael didn’t understand why.

“Sorry, Private,” he smirked, returning to his seat, not knowing whether he was glad or disappointed that he’d missed whoever had been sending Alex those frequent texts. “Just Valenti.”

Alex hummed, his eyes focused on his screen as he typed out a response. His lips quirked at the corner at something Kyle must’ve told him, but before Michael could decipher that look as well, the airman turned away, taking his seat again, his phone kept close.

The next time Michael noticed, he, Alex, and Isobel had been at the Crashdown Café at a booth near the window, and both Alex and Isobel were huddled over Alex’s phone, Isobel continuously trying to type something in while Alex kept affectionately swatting her hand away, rolling his eyes.

“What’re you guys _doing_?” Michael finally snapped after what felt like an hour of watching them giggle together. Alex was blushing and it was bothering Michael a lot. Maybe it was because Maria wasn’t there, and he felt a little lonely? What was Alex blushing so much about anyway?

“Alex’s walking wet dream,” Isobel said with a dreamy expression, and Alex took his phone away from her, the tips of his ears red.

Alex’s shoulders scrunched and he grumbled, “Don’t call him that,” which would’ve been cute if the blood wasn’t rushing in Michael’s ears and Alex wasn’t adamant on avoiding his gaze.

“You,” Michael tried, then realized he sounded hoarse and he cleared his throat. “You – er – you met someone?”

“You guys spend _all_ your time together, how have you not noticed?” Isobel said with a roll of her eyes. “Forget him, Alex, if it’s not in a car or in his bed, he doesn’t notice.”

Alex muttered something that Michael couldn’t hear.

“What?”

“Nothing, _look_ ,” he hastily changed the subject, “it’s not a big deal, okay? I just – I kind of – I mean, I don’t really know how I feel about him yet.”

“You wait until he texts you, and you can’t stop smiling when he calls,” Isobel said fondly, as if she’d found a new passion project and couldn’t believe how well it was going. Michael frowned; how little had he been paying attention if he hadn’t noticed how close his ex and sister had gotten?

“You _like_ him,” Isobel insisted, and seemed only annoyed when she was met with Michael’s glare.

“ _Like_ ’s a big word,” Alex said, glanced out the window, and did a doubletake. Michael followed his gaze, and his brows furrowed.

“Great,” Michael sighed, slumping in his seat, his eyes on the ceiling. “ _He_ shows up.”

As Kyle Valenti pushed the door to the diner open, Alex waved him over and Isobel sent dagger eyes at her brother. Michael shrugged as if to say, _What?_

Isobel glanced at Alex, then back at Kyle, and Michael heard the silent warning; _Don’t upset Kyle, for Alex’s sake._

Michael was more confused than he’d ever been. What did it _matter_ if he upset Kyle? Alex never seemed to care that much about him. Granted, Alex never liked when Michael and Kyle were at each other’s throats, but he didn’t seem to get _upset_ with their bickering.

Isobel suddenly nudged Alex’s elbow as Kyle neared their table, and before Alex could stop her, she stepped out of the booth, and came to sit next to Michael instead, leaving the only available space next to Alex. Kyle’s smile widened when he realized that, and he slid into the seat beside the airman.

And as Alex gave him a shy smile, so unlike the generally kind and warm smile he gave all of his friends, as his cheeks turned a deeper shade, and as Kyle seemed to glance at Alex more often, Michael finally understood.

The texts, Valenti’s name, Isobel’s remark: _“You guys spend all your time together, how have you not noticed?”_ She hadn’t just been talking about Michael and Alex. She’d been talking about _Kyle_ , too. Michael had been spending all his time nowadays with the airman and doctor…. Could it really have been that at some point, during all the late nights, the long hours, the moments when Michael wasn’t there and had come back to find beer and takeout food in the trashcan, that Alex – _his_ Alex – and Kyle had –

Michael shook his head of the idea right away. There was no way – _no way_ – Alex suddenly liked Kyle Valenti. There was no way they were hooking up or anything. Michael would have _noticed_.

“Kyle,” Liz suddenly called from behind the counter, “can you come here a second?”

Kyle nodded with a thumbs up, and looked to Alex. “I asked her to look into the blood samples we found in my dad’s journals. I think she may have the results.”

Alex nodded in turn, his expression returned to the cool, calm soldier – except for his cheeks which were still red. “I’ll come with you.”

And so before Michael could object, the two were up and making their way toward the front tables. When they were out of earshot, Michael nudged Isobel’s arm.

“Would you _knock it off_ already?”

“Ow! Knock _what_ off?!”

“Trying to hook Alex up with someone, it’s never gonna happen!”

“Oh?” her gaze turned cold. “And you’d know because you’re the romance professor?”

“I know because he’s too nice to tell you to drop it.”

She scoffed. “Aren’t you dating DeLuca? Are you even _allowed_ to be jealous right now?”

Michael forced a smirk to his lips. “I’m not jealous.”

“Please, _Smaug_ is a more subtle fire breather than you are.”

“ _Who_?”

“ _Oh pick up a book_!” She huffed. “And for your information, Alex already likes someone.”

“If you say Valenti –”

“Yeah, Valenti.”

“That’s not possible!”

“Why? Because you say so?”

“Because it’s _Valenti_ ,” he hissed. “If it was anyone else –”

“You’d be acting the exact same way you are now,” Isobel retorted. She looked over her shoulder as if to make sure Alex couldn’t hear him, and lowered her voice to a whisper when she turned back to Michael. “Because no one’s ever good enough for Alex, right? No one but you. But _you_ don’t want Alex either, and – _hello_! In case you forgot, _you’re dating someone else_!”

She shook her head. “What do you want him to do? Sit in that bunker and wait for you?”

Michael stared. “You’re getting really defensive of him, you know. _Why_? Why does he matter so much to you?”

“Because he’s my _friend_ , dumbass!” Isobel snapped. “And this is what friends do! They help each other hook up with their crushes!”

“Stop calling him Alex’s crush – he’s _not_ his crush!”

Isobel shook her head. “Oh come on, Michael.”

“ _What_?”

“Look at you, you don’t _love_ Alex, you love _having_ Alex,” she said, and Michael fell silent. “Stop whining,” she demanded, “and _look_ at him.”

Michael reluctantly looked to Alex, biting his lower lip at the front as Kyle spoke to him about something. Alex was caught up in Kyle’s stupid lips, Kyle’s stupid smile, and his cheeks turned darker and darker.

“Can’t you be happy for him?” Isobel said, her voice softer.

Michael tightened his hands to fists. Isobel didn’t understand. Michael thought he had had more time, he didn’t think Alex would start to like the guy they worked with, they guy so close to them all the time, the guy Michael could never hope to get rid of.

“No,” he whispered. _Alex is mine, his smile is mine, his laugh is mine, his love is_ mine. “I can’t.”


	118. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael doesn't want Alex going out in clothes that make him look sexy.

“No,” Michael said as if he was wondering whether or not Alex was out of his mind.

Alex looked down at his outfit. A black t-shirt and black jeans and boots. He sighed. He’d been told _no_ on the tank top, _no_ on the flannel that revealed half his chest, and just when he thought Michael could have nothing else to possibly say, he took one look at the airman, shook his head, and spoke his new favorite word that he’d seemed excessively fond of using recently. Another _no_.

“What’s wrong with this?” Alex asked, exasperated. “It’s a shirt and a pair of jeans.”

“The shirt shows off your arms, chest, and abs – no. The jeans show off your thighs – _no_.”

“They’re not tight,” Alex said almost desperately. “This is my _fifth_ change, Guerin.”

“That V-neck came down to your bellybutton,” Michael argued, leaning back on the couch’s armrest.

“And the blue sweater?”

“It was hanging off your shoulder!” Michael defended.

Alex sighed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “You’re not gonna let me go out tonight, are you?”

Michael only smiled as if glad Alex had finally understood. Alex sighed and turned back to his mirror. He _could’ve_ just told Michael that he was going out anyway, he _could’ve_ just ignored the cowboy, but he had to admit, he was mostly enjoying the attention, the jealousy, the possessiveness. He was Michael’s, and while Michael told him that with every thrust, every kiss, it left heat pooling in his gut every time Michael looked at him as if he wanted to cage him in against himself, to push him against the wall, to mark him so that everyone knew who he belonged to.

As he caught Michael’s eyes in the mirror, Alex realized the cowboy was raking him up and down. Alex’s movements stilled. Michael had one ankle hook over the other as he leaned on the armrest, his cowboy hat rested on the spot between his legs. Alex thought of the way Michael had watched him when he’d first come out with the shirtless vest, the way his eyes had dragged down Alex’s chest, his stomach, his bare arms.

He had licked his lips, smirked sweetly, and said, “ _No_ ,” as if he would’ve rather died than let anyone see Alex like that. Anyone but him.

Alex pursed his lips, the exasperation turning quickly to heat and excitement as he spun around to face the cowboy. “When you said… _let’s have fun tonight_ … you weren’t talking about going out… were you?”

He said this slowly, stepping closer and closer to Michael with every word.

Michael licked his lips, his eyes falling to the sliver of skin between the hem of Alex’s shirt and his belt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Alex hummed, caressing Michael’s black hat hiding his cock. Michael exhaled slowly, his lids fluttering as he looked up to meet Alex’s eyes.

“You know,” Alex said quietly, using his other hand to take Michael’s, holding it to his own stomach. “No one is allowed to touch me… but _you_ are.”

As if on instinct, Michael’s fingers stretched beneath the fabric of the black shirt, reaching higher to feel Alex’s stomach, his chest, his nipples. The higher he reached, the heavier their breathing got.

“Took you long enough,” Michael muttered, and pulled Alex’s bottom lip between his teeth. “I thought I’d have to tear the damn clothes off you.”

Alex chuckled deeply, bringing his own hands around Michael’s collarbone, slipping them beneath Michael’s flannel, his fingers stretching amid the cowboy’s chest hair as he slowly began unbuttoning his shirt.

“You know you could’ve just put your hands on me whenever you wanted,” Alex said, leaning in to press a kiss to Michael’s neck, then his naked shoulder. He pulled back only when Michael pulled Alex’s shirt over his head and held Alex flush against him.

Alex gasped, the sound quickly swallowed by Michael’s hungry lips on his, devouring his mouth. Alex wrapped his arms around Michael’s shoulders, pulling him in closer as the cowboy groaned against his lips, as if he’d been starved for Alex’s touch all day.

When both of them had desperately needed to pull back for a breath, Alex rested their foreheads together.

“You don’t have to wait, baby,” Alex whispered. “You never have to wait.”

Michael leaned back enough to search Alex’s face, as if trying to commit him to memory. His arms around Alex’s waist tightened so that there was no space between their bodies at all. Alex did not stop touching him. He could always read Michael too well, and he knew that look of apprehension better than anyone. He _knew_ that despite the love they confessed to each other every day, Michael still looked at Alex as if he might suddenly disappear if he let him go for even a second.

Alex had one hand rubbing Michael’s chest, the other cupping his jaw. Alex leaned in, moaning as he kissed his boyfriend eagerly. He wanted to _show_ Michael how much he loved him, how desperately he _wanted_ him. A promise that Alex would never leave him because he simply never could.

The beginnings of a genuine, pleased smile began to form on Michael’s lips when Alex pulled back again.

“If I was going to touch you whenever I wanted,” Michael said quietly, and Alex gasped as he felt Michael’s hand slip beneath his jeans. “ _Believe me_ , Private, we’d _never_ leave the bedroom.”


	119. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex cries when Michael does something nice for him.

Alex rested his forehead against the door, his hand on the knob.

Since he’d left his father’s hospital room, he hadn’t dared stop moving. He didn’t think he needed to, but now, before he opened the door to his cabin and let himself inside, he found he needed a second – just one quick second – to prepare himself for the darkness behind the door.

All these weeks, all this pressure, all these phone calls and texts and questions filling up his phone too fast for him to respond, and his mind too quickly to process. But it was fine, he could handle it. He always handled it.

He pushed the door open, expecting to hear Buffy’s barks, his dog jumping around eagerly as he searched for the light switch – maybe he could heat up some soup from yesterday, he thought without much of an appetite for dinner – and instead, he came into a brightly lit cabin. The warm golden glow welcomed him in, there was radio music – _The Beatles_ , Alex recognized – playing from somewhere inside, Buffy ran up to him excitedly from the kitchen where Alex could smell something a lot like roasted chicken cooking.

Alex stared with wide eyes as Michael, in a white sweater that belonged to Alex, and a pair of jeans that did not, came into the living room, wearing only socks on his feet that Alex had gotten him, and smiled at the airman with bright gold and green eyes.

“Private,” Michael said. “Hey, I…” his words trailed off, his steps towards Alex slowed, his smile falling off his face. “Alex?”

Alex realized that amid his shock and speechlessness, his eyes had not been burning because of any computer screen or for being awake as long as he had been, but because he’d been crying. He felt the tears fall down his cheeks, and Michael had barely taken another step before a sob escaped Alex’s lips.

“Hey, _hey_ ,” Michael was at his side in an instant, wiping away his tears. “What – Alex, what happened?”

Alex could only cry as Michael pulled him in against his chest, the cowboy’s hands trembling on his back as he held him tighter, as if terrified he might fall apart. Alex buried his face in Michael’s shoulder, trying to form the words but unable to.

“Alex,” Michael breathed, his hand in Alex’s hair. “Alex.”

Alex shook his head as he pulled away, silently urging Michael not to get upset or worried for him. There was no way to say it; that Alex wasn’t sad at all, but tired. Tired, and so, _so_ happy to see him. But Michael wouldn’t let him move further than an arm’s length away.

“I thought,” Alex cried, “I thought it’d be dark. I thought I’d be alone. I can’t believe you’re here.” A smile broke across his lips. “It feels like a dream.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Michael whispered, looking pained. He brought Alex in again, pressing their foreheads together this time. “This isn’t a dream. Feel me, look.” He brought Alex’s hand up to his chest, against his racing heart. Always racing for Alex. “Feel that. That’s yours. I’m real.”

Alex laughed despite the tears. “I get stupid when I’m tired.”

“Tell me about it,” Michael scoffed lightly. “You thought _I_ was the dream? That’s my line, Private.”

Alex laughed again, curling in against Michael’s chest even as they stood, nuzzling his neck, inhaling his scent. “I love you.”

Alex heard Michael’s breath hitch. It wasn’t a confession they made often, but sometimes Alex couldn’t help the words, and Michael’s hold on him, as it did now, tightened when he said them.

“I love you, Alex,” he said so softly that Alex might not have heard him if he wasn’t pressed against him, against his neck, against his heart.


	120. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle tries to tell Michael that he wants to ask Alex out.

Kyle twirled his phone in his hand, glancing every so often at Michael seated across from him, focused on a file.

“ _What_ , Valenti?” he finally snapped at some point, and Kyle, having gotten used to Michael’s temper after so long a time with him, sighed and straightened in his seat.

“Guerin,” he started carefully. “I think, after all these months, we’ve gotten closer.”

“Mm, have we though?”

“I’d like to think we’re friends –”

“That’s a big word.”

“—and we’ve gotten a little used to each other.”

“Like a pebble in your shoe.”

“I want to ask Alex out.”

Michael turned silent, his eyes looking up. “ _No_.”

Kyle pressed his lips together. He’d prepared for this, he _knew_ Michael would say no, but he had never planned to ask for the cowboy’s blessings.

“Okay,” Kyle sighed, leaning forward. “Let’s try that again. I saw what you dating Maria did to Alex,” he said slowly, and Michael’s jaw clenched. “He sat in here every day, and in his own home, and worked like _hell_ to get you what you wanted. And neither of you even thought to _talk_ to him about it first. He sat there, Guerin, and he _worked_ so that he would _finally_ matter to you. Well, he matters to me.”

Kyle shrugged. “And honestly, it’s a little more selfish on my part. He’d never date me if I didn’t talk to you first.”

“He’d never date you anyway,” Michael said cruelly. “He loves _me_.”

Kyle stared. He was sure Alex would never date him if he killed Michael either. “I know,” he said calmly. “I know some part of him always will. But I’ll take that on, too, because it’s _Alex_.” _And he’s worth everything to me, the way he was never worth it to you_ , Kyle nearly said, but at the darkness that overtook Michael’s expression, Kyle was sure the cowboy had heard him clearly.

“You can _try_ ,” Michael smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You won’t like the answer.”

Michael was _afraid_ , Kyle realized. He was terrified Alex might actually say yes. Kyle had to admit that he was, too. But as he’d told Michael; this was _Alex_.

“Maybe,” Kyle stood, tucking his phone into his pocket. “I guess we’ll both find out soon enough.”


	121. Enes (Max x Alex)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds out Max likes Alex, and confronts him about it.

“So what’s the problem?” Max asked as he and Michael both huddled over the garden hose behind Max’s house.

Michael raised a brow at his brother, his lips quirking upward in that mischievous, troublesome smirk, and Max knew what was coming.

“Your fitter and pipe are both too rusty, they must’ve cracked somewhere.” He bent low over the pipe, tweaking it. “I’ll check your fitter. If it moves around fine, then –”

All of a sudden, a crack in the rusted pipe beneath the fitter appeared when Michael moved it back, and there was a fountain of water exploding and hitting them both, Max especially, in the face.

“Ah – _MICHAEL_!”

“So it _was_ the pipe!” Michael yelled gleefully even as the water soaked him.

“Would you shut it off?!”

A too-long second later, the water eased down to a mere _drip drip drip_ onto the mud. Max sighed, rubbing the water from his eyes.

He glared at his brother. “You knew that would happen.”

“I had a feeling,” Michael defended.

“A warning would’ve been nice.”

“You want me to warn you whenever I have a _feeling_ about something?”

Max huffed, pushing his wet bangs out of his eyes. “Great,” he grumbled. “I’ll have to call someone to fix this.”

Michael held up his hands, as if to say, _Hello?!_ “That’s what _I’m_ here for, isn’t it?”

“I meant someone I can trust.”

“You’ll trust a _stranger_ more than me?”

“Dear God, _yes_.”

Michael rolled his eyes, and patted his brother’s shoulder. “Look, I can get you another pipe, just seal the cut with some duct tape for now, and I’ll replace it for you tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Max raised a brow, trying not to seem interested. “You – er – have a date tonight with…” He didn’t say her name. He felt weird saying her name when Alex had helped him so much. It didn’t feel fair saying her name, or right, though he couldn’t say why.

“Maria,” Michael said slowly, as if he thought his brother was stupid for having forgotten. Max secretly thought Michael was a little stupid for not realizing the real problem.

“Yeah, I’m taking her to the movies.”

“Ah,” Max said awkwardly, fanning his wet shirt if only to have something to do. “Hey, you uh…”

“Yeah?”

Max looked up at his brother; calm, happy, relieved. Max wished he could feel the same, but beneath the happiness, he felt something brewing under the surface, something desperate and yearning, something he could never name or speak of.

He shook his head. He was being stupid.

“Nothing, never mind. I’ll go get the duct tape.”

“Hold on, I’m not as soaked as you are,” Michael said. “ _I’ll_ get the tape, and I’ll do it without dragging mud in, too.”

Max looked down at himself, gathering his shirt in his hands at the hem and wringing it out. “Yeah, okay. Do you know where it is?”

“Kitchen drawer?” he asked, already near the door, and Max gestured over his shoulder a quick _yes_.

Max sighed. “Great,” he muttered. How was he supposed to get clean without making a mess inside? He could always take his clothes off outside, wipe his feet down, and go in. He’d have to do it after Michael left though, that was for sure. He didn’t need the blackmail, he had other problems.

“What the hell’s this?” he suddenly heard, and turned to find his brother standing at the doorframe.

“Hey, you got the…” Max’s words fell short. Michael was no longer smiling, his gaze cold and dark as Max only knew it could be around one certain man, and instead of holding the duct tape, he held a brown leather journal in his hands, his thumb bookmarking a page in the middle. Max’s latest entry.

Max’s heart fell into his stomach. _Oh no._

“Er,” he tried, his voice feeble to his own ears. “You okay?”

Michael held the journal up. “Why’re you writing about Alex?”

Max changed his approach. “You were looking through my things?”

“I didn’t have to, you left it wide-open on the kitchen counter.” He took a step towards Max, his hand tightening on the journal. He looked cold, but he looked… confused as well, like he couldn’t believe what he’d seen, or who he was talking to about it. Max wanted to reach out to him, but what would he say?

He could never have said his true feelings, it was true, but he could always write the unsaid.

“Were you writing about him before I got here? Is that,” he huffed in disbelief, “is _that_ why you looked so nervous?”

“Okay, Michael,” Max said calmly, hoping it would help calm his brother, too. It didn’t. “Listen, it’s not what you think.”

Michael opened the journal to the bookmarked page. “ ‘His lips like roses, his eyes so dark I fear they could see into my very soul and know my darkest of secrets, his name like a promise on my tongue; _Alex_ , my question; _Alex_ , my laugh. An unspoken truth against my lips, a smile that makes me cry for I cannot help but hurt with wonder, I cannot help but burn with hope.’”

“Michael, please –”

“ ‘—and yet I welcome it. I welcome that hurt, and I welcome that burn, because it would mean I could have him, and I would so love to have him.’”

“Just _listen_ to me –”

“ ‘My rose, my deadly arrow. Is his skin as soft as a red petal? His voice as piercing? I wonder, and wonder, and _wonder_ , but I cannot touch him, for he may be a rose, but he is not without his thorns, and I am not without my endlessly bleeding wounds’ – don’t _lie_ to my face,” Michael ended on a snarl and Max flinched.

“So what, you,” Michael shook his head, his eyes narrowed as if he was trying to search for the right words, too. “You – you _like_ Alex now?”

“I don’t –” he started, but the rusty pipe burst apart into small pieces and the ground seemed to shake with the strength of the vibrations, and Max stumbled slightly before he caught himself.

He held Michael’s gaze. He could lie, say he had written it for Michael to give to Alex. But Michael had already chosen someone else. Michael hadn’t even _asked_ about Alex in weeks. Max had had a hard time believing that _that_ had been the same man who’d threatened to hate Max forever if he’d gotten Alex sent away. He had no trouble believing it now.

“I don’t know,” he confessed helplessly, for that’s how he’d spent these past few months feeling; helpless. Helpless to stop thinking of Alex, helpless to stop his heart from racing whenever Alex was around, helpless to keep himself from feeling protective of the airman when everyone else seemed to want to leave him behind.

Michael blinked, his frown deepening as if he hadn’t expected Max to give him the actual truth. “You don’t know.” Max shrugged heavily.

Michael staggered back. “How long?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper and hoarse, as if he’d been screaming all day.

Max opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. “December.”

Michael’s eyes widened fractionally, and he shook his head. He moved another step back, and Max moved towards him, taking his arm.

“No, no, _listen_ to me, listen – it’s – it’s just a crush, Michael, I swear, and – and barely even _that_.”

“You like him,” Michael muttered, the journal slipping from his hand to the ground. “You like Alex.”

“But he doesn’t like me,” Max said hastily, pretending the words didn’t leave a needle stab in his chest. “He could never – I’m not even his type! _You’re_ his type. _You’re_ the one Alex loves, Michael.”

That seemed to snap Michael out of his thoughts. He looked up, his gaze catching Max’s. He seemed to take several deep breaths, his jaw clenched so painfully tight Max worried it might shatter.

When Michael finally spoke, his voice was so low and so barely controlled that Max was afraid Michael would explode if he let go of his arm. “Just… just a crush?”

Max swallowed. “Barely.”

“You wrote about him –”

“I write about everything.”

“And you’ll never… I mean…” Michael seemed to struggle with the words, but they were the ones Max knew he could never disagree with, could never dare. _And you’ll never tell him any of this?_

“That’s not even a question,” Max said firmly, the stab wound slightly stronger now, but he’d never planned to tell Alex anyway. He was horrified at the very idea of it. Besides, it wasn’t like Alex could ever feel the same way, could ever actually _accept_ his feelings… could he?

“Never.”


	122. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael sees someone spike Alex's drink.

Alex took another sip of his drink, and rubbed his eyes. He glared at the codes and ciphers he had transferred to paper, all by hand of course, forcing himself to stay awake. He’d thought coming to the Wild Pony, getting away from all of the silence of the bunker, and the inviting warmth and comfort of his cabin, would help him focus better, but then he’d gotten here and found Michael at the bar, talking to Maria, and he’d found himself unable to focus on anything else.

But it was late, Maria had spotted him (Michael hadn’t), and he had figured that if he stayed at the very back, everything would be all right. He had been wrong.

“Still working, huh?” Alex heard, and his eyes fell shut in exasperation.

The man that had been hitting on him all night slid into the chair opposite him, his hand around his own beer bottle, his hungry eyes raking Alex’s body despite Alex holding the files up to hide as much of himself as possible. The man was tall and handsome, which Alex might’ve liked a lot better if the guy didn’t reek of alcohol and didn’t insist on bothering Alex when he’d made it plainly clear that he was exhausted and in no mood to chat.

Instead of responding, Alex hummed, hoping it would be enough to bore the man. It wasn’t.

“You ever think you work _too_ much?” he pressed, grinning his stupid grin that Alex was sure was meant to come off as charming and humorous, and instead came off as creepy and annoying.

“Doesn’t really bother me,” Alex said, the finality clear in his tone.

“You came to a bar to _study_ ,” the man said, leaning in. “You seem pretty bothered to me. I can help with that…” he reached out to touch the back of Alex’s hand, and Alex, unable to take any more of it, stood.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he said curtly. “When I get back, you better be gone.”

The man’s smile twitched, and he leaned back in his seat, his lips pursed as Alex stuffed his papers into his backpack and took it with him to the bathroom. Once inside, Alex splashed his face a few times with the icy water, and he waited a moment against the wall, wanting to be absolutely sure that man had left his table. But because he was Alex, his mind had to wander if left in silence for longer than a second.

He thought of the numbers he’d been studying, the symbols, the Project Shepherd system protocols he’d gone over – it all connected, he knew it did, but _how_ was the question. And, of course, his mind went to the person it should never go to but always went to anyway.

Alex shut his eyes tight, urging the thoughts away. He _knew_ Michael wasn’t giving him a first thought, let alone a second. Alex just had to stay useful, he _had_ to figure these ciphers out, Michael had to need him or Alex really _would_ be nothing to him then. And that would be the one thing he could never take.

Alex sighed, forcing himself off the wall. Hopefully, his creeper for the night would’ve left by now. With the thought that maybe Alex should try aligning some of the symbols and codes he saw, Alex stepped out of the bathroom to a noise louder than before. People were standing in a half circle, blocking the door as grunts and screams filled the air.

Alex scanned the bar first, instinctively looking for Maria. Was she okay? She must’ve been out of her mind with rage and annoyance and –

Then Alex spotted Maria, and he blinked. She was standing to the side, her hip against the counter, her arms crossed. Alex might’ve thought she was completely calm if not for the way her jaw twitched and she seemed to be silently encouraging the fight.

Alex’s eyes widened. _Where was Michael?_ He pushed through the crowd and spotted his cowboy, to his shock, straddling the creeper that had been bothering Alex all night, his face now bloody and bruised as Michael punched, and punched, and _punched_. Alex was too startled to move for a second, but as the creeper winced, Alex snapped out of his thoughts. He rushed to Michael side, trying to pull him off.

“Guerin, stop it, what’s you _doing_?!” But it was as if Michael couldn’t hear him, _wouldn’t_ hear him until the defenseless stranger below him was dead.

Alex wrapped an arm around Michael’s shoulders, his other arm around Michael’s waist, and he used all his energy to pull him up. “Stop it already!”

He managed to move Michael off with difficulty, and pulled him in against him, his back against Alex’s chest, holding him tightly until he stopped trying to swing his now bloody fists.

“The sheriff’s already on his way,” Maria said coldly, but not to Michael, to the stranger. “Sit tight. You think of running, and I’ll taser your ass.”

Alex, no less confused than he was a moment ago, thought there was no way the stranger was going to be able to lift his head, let alone run away. Michael was still vibrating in Alex’s hold, his heart hammering even through his back, so while a few men came forward to help the man sit up, Alex pulled Michael along toward the backdoor. Michael let him, his glare on the man.

Once outside, Alex released him and snapped, “Are you out of your mind?! You could’ve _killed_ him!”

“Good!” Michael yelled back. “He deserves to die!”

“How can you even say that?!”

“He put something in your drink!” he said, and Alex blinked. “When you went to the bathroom, he pulled something out of his pocket and slipped it in your bottle! What’d you want me to do?!”

“You…” Alex’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head. “Guerin, there’s no way you could’ve known that, you would’ve had to have been…” his words trailed off, but Michael’s gaze never wavered. _Watching me._ He thought Michael hadn’t noticed him there at all, and in reality, Michael had been watching him the entire time.

“Oh,” was all he could end up saying, and Michael finally looked away. They both stood there, neither making a move to go back inside to the chaos and the noise. Alex’s eyes fell to Michael’s fist, battered and bloody, and he swallowed.

He moved closer to the cowboy, gently taking his still-tight fist in his hand, yet Michael jumped at the contact as if Alex had shocked him.

Alex was extremely careful as he looked over Michael’s fist. After so many broken bones and dislocated shoulders while training, he’d come to recognize when a bone was broken. Luckily, Michael’s knuckles were just bruised. A week or two on ice, and he would be fine.

Still, he asked, “Does it hurt a lot?”

The distance between them seemed to almost be nonexistent, their foreheads almost pressed together, but Alex kept his eyes on Michael’s hand. There was a time he’d wanted to look over Michael’s hand, check the injuries, try to help him, but he hadn’t been able to then. He wanted more than anything to do it now.

Michael shook his head, and Alex’s heart fluttered as he felt the cowboy’s curls brush his own straight strands, Michael’s breath fanning his cheek.

“We,” Alex cleared his throat, “we should get you cleaned up.”

Michael nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah.”

When Alex dared look up, he saw Michael’s eyes half-lidded as they focused on his lips, as if in a trance.

“Alex,” Michael muttered, and leaned in. He took Alex’s lips between his slowly, as if terrified Alex might pull away if he kissed him any harder. Alex stood, letting himself be kissed, not knowing what else to do.

“ _Alex_ ,” Michael breathed and pushed Alex against the wall, sighing deeply against the airman’s lips. The muffled music from inside seemed to disappear completely as the air filled with the sounds of Michael and Alex’s lips, pressing together and pulling apart.

Michael tilted his head to deepen the kiss, and Alex’s hands reached into Michael’s curls, gripping them. Michael moaned against Alex’s lips, his hands on Alex’s waist, his fingers stretching across the smooth expanse of skin beneath Alex’s shirt. Michael’s tongue slid against Alex’s, and Alex’s brows furrowed at the taste.

He pulled away, turning his head aside as Michael chased his lips.

“Alex,” Michael whispered, “kiss me.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “How much have you had to drink?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Michael frowned. “What?”

“You taste like…” he shook his head, “like you’ve had a lot, how much have you had?”

“I…” Michael shrugged, then his frown deepened as he seemed not to know the answer himself. “Um…”

Alex’s heart fell into his stomach. He forced himself to let go of Michael’s curls, to step away, and as he took a step back, Michael followed him. Alex felt a lump in his throat.

“I’m exhausted, and you’re drunk. We – we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Michael said, holding onto Alex’s waist. “What – what does it matter if I’m drunk, you know I’d want you either way.”

Alex inched away from him. “No,” he said simply. “I don’t know that.”

Michael looked as if Alex had slapped him. “Alex…”

“We should get back inside,” he said, lightly tugging on Michael’s wrist. “Get your bruises some ice. Come on.”

He waited until Michael, his head ducked, his expression resigned, agreed to follow him, and Alex let his wrist go.


	123. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some soft kylex softness.

“Donuts and coffee!” Kyle announced as he stepped into the bunker. He handed Alex a cup. “And tea for the Captain.”

Alex laughed wearily. “You’re a saint.”

Kyle tried not to let his smile falter at the sound. Alex wasn’t easy with complements, so to hear them used so freely now was proof that the airman was severely sleep-deprived. He sat down beside him, handing Alex a pastry from the box.

“So,” he started.

“So?” Alex accepted the donut from him.

“ _So_. It’s day four. Nearing hour ninety-six.” Alex rolled his eyes. “Have you slept in any of that time? Don’t answer that, let me answer that for you; _no_. You _haven’t_.”

“Is that what this is then?” Alex asked, taking half the donut away in one bite. “A bribe?”

“Is it working?” Kyle asked, and Alex snickered.

He smirked into his tea. “Depends. You going back to the hospital after this?”

Kyle blinked, his heart stuttering in his chest. It’d been months since Alex found out that Michael and Maria were together, and despite the heavy weight in his heart at seeing his friend bottling up all of his misery, there were moments – small ones – when Alex smiled at Kyle, or blushed at Kyle’s words, or leaned into Kyle’s touch, that Kyle thought just _maybe_ he could be a comfort in Alex’s life where he’d failed to be before.

Kyle stared at his coffee, and muttered, “That an invite, Captain?”

Alex said nothing, and Kyle glanced at him to find the tips of his ears and cheeks had turned red. “I… just thought we could hang out.”

Kyle looked away, biting his lower lip to keep his smile from widening. He cleared his throat as he moved his chair closer to Alex so that their arms brushed. Kyle felt Alex stiffen against him for only a moment before the tension seemed to leave his body completely.

“Hang out,” Kyle mumbled, putting another donut out for Alex to have next despite his protests that he was already full. “Yeah, we could do that.”


	124. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Possessive malex smut.

Michael slowly opened the bathroom door, the sound of the running water echoing off the tiled walls. Behind the glass was Alex’s naked figure shrouded in mist.

Michael took a deep breath and stepped inside. He had only been staying at Alex’s cabin for a week, but it had felt like an eternity. Being in a house with someone you yearned for but could never touch was an excruciating punishment, but there were moments, here and there, when it seemed like Michael’s touch might be welcome.

Moments in the early morning, before the sun really came up, when Michael would peek into Alex’s room, and the airman – light as a cat in his sleep – would see him standing there and reach an arm out for him. Michael would slip into his embrace beneath the covers and get as close as possible with the excuse that he needed to get warm.

Moments in the late night when they’d be watching something on television, and Alex would fall asleep with his head on Michael’s lap. He would wake up as soon as Michael tried putting a blanket on him, and apologize sleepily before making his way back to his own room, despite Michael’s protests.

It occurred to Michael that he may have gotten it all wrong. He had thought that Alex was trying desperately to avoid his touch, but maybe he wanted it just as badly as Michael wanted Alex’s. Maybe he _wanted_ the cowboy to push, maybe he _wanted_ Michael to just _show_ him how much he wanted him.

“Guerin?” Alex stilled behind the glass as Michael began removing his clothes. Michael really hated that super-hearing. It would be a little harder to surprise Alex now, but Michael pushed forward anyway.

He took a deep breath as he put his hand on the door and pulled it open, revealing Alex, soaked and dripping and _naked_ , sitting on a small stool against the wall. His eyebrows were raised, he looked more startled than Michael had ever seen him, he certainly _did not_ look like someone who had been waiting for Michael to ambush him during his shower….

But as the water trickled down his rosy cheeks, his red lips, opened slightly in surprise, his hairy chest, his flat stomach, his _cock_ , Michael found the courage to kneel in front of him, close the door behind him, and put each of his hands on the airman’s knees.

Alex shook his head at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “What’re you doing?” His voice was barely over a whisper, nearly hidden away completely by the water splashing the wide floor, and now Michael, soaking him through as well.

Michael swallowed heavily, the water droplets on Alex’s eyelashes looking like glitter, and he leaned in slowly. As he neared, he could feel Alex’s breaths, hot and shallow, fan his lips. His eyes fluttered shut, and he kissed the man.

Alex was still a moment, letting Michael kiss him without reacting in the slightest, and for those mortifying long couple of seconds, Michael feared he’d misunderstood everything. Maybe Alex _hadn’t_ wanted him to come at all, maybe he’d been happy with the distance between them.

Michael shut his eyes tighter at the thought and leaned in further, kissing Alex harder. He couldn’t imagine anything – _anything_ – worse than being kept at an arm’s length from Alex for the rest of his life.

Then he slowly felt Alex’s lips move against his own, and he was so shocked he pulled back, his eyes wide.

Alex was staring at his lips with heavily-lidded eyes, and Michael, so relieved he could cry, brought his arms around Alex’s waist, burying his face in the crook of Alex’s neck. Alex wrapped his own arms around Michael’s shoulders and held him close, and Michael wondered whose heart it was that was beating so roughly, his own or Alex’s, before he realized it must’ve been both.

“Alex,” Michael whispered, sighing contentedly as he felt Alex’s strong chest pressed against his own, Alex’s nipples, Alex’s stomach. Michael grinded up slightly so that his cock pushed against Alex’s, the two of them already half-hard.

Michael turned his head and moaned as he caught Alex’s lips in an open-mouthed kiss, the hot slide of Alex’s tongue against his making his heart hammer so hard Michael feared it would jump out of his chest.

“Baby,” Michael muttered before he could help himself, but was rewarded for it when Alex moaned into his mouth.

Michael let his hands run over Alex’s body, his waist, his hips, his stomach, his thighs. He wanted to touch _everything_ , he wanted to feel Alex in every little way. Michael pulled Alex in by his legs, and grinded against him, meeting in the hard crux between their legs. They groaned, and Michael wrapped an arm tightly around Alex’s waist as he grinded into him again. Alex dug his fingers into Michael’s curls, keeping their lips pressed together as Michael thrusted and thrusted and _thrusted_.

The water turned hotter and hotter with every thrust, their breaths quicker, their need to pull away to breathe more often. Alex’s nails scratched down Michael’s shoulders, and the heat in Michael’s gut turned to fire at the sting. He stood, pulling Alex up with him. Alex gasped as Michael pushed him against the wall, holding him in place, and thrusted wildly against him.

_I can’t believe it_ , Michael thought as his hands ran desperately to feel every inch of Alex’s skin. He couldn’t _believe_ he got to feel Alex this way again, to press his thumbs into the airman’s hardened nipples, to chase the trail of hair leading down his stomach, to feel his hardened length against his own.

When they finally came, Michael could not stop touching Alex, even as the airman struggled to stand on one leg. Michael held Alex between himself and the wall, kissing Alex’s neck, biting and sucking the soft skin there. He wanted everyone to know that Alex was his, that he was off limits to anyone else.

“Guerin,” Alex breathed, squirming against him as Michael bit. When Michael pulled away, he admired the red mark, and took Alex’s lips again in his as the airman started to say something.

He was going to suggest they forget about what happened, Michael knew he was. He was going to say they shouldn’t and _couldn’t_ have another go at it. He was going to leave Michael, abandon him, tell him that he was sick of the cowboy disappointing him. Michael wouldn’t be able to take it.

“Guerin,” Alex tried again, but Michael held onto him tighter. Maybe if he saw how much Michael loved him, how desperately he yearned for him, Alex wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t make _Michael_ leave. At the very least, Michael wanted to get a few more seconds with him.

“ _Guerin_ ,” Alex turned his head away as Michael kept trying to kiss him. Michael blinked when he realized Alex was chuckling under his breath. “I still have to shower.”

Michael searched his face, his hands tight on Alex’s waist. “Is – is that all you were going to say?”

Alex’s expression softened, and Michael knew that the airman, as he always did, had seen right through him. Alex cupped Michael’s jaw and leaned in, taking his lips softly in his. “You can shower with me, if you want.”

Michael huffed, his eyes burning as his lips quirked into a smile. “I want,” he whispered against Alex’s lips.


	125. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael fawns over how cute his boyfriend is.

“Private, cake!” Michael called as he stepped into the cabin.

He knelt to greet an enthusiastic Buffy, holding onto the box in his other hand. “Oh careful, _careful_ , babe, this is for Alex. No, you can’t have any, it’s chocolate.” He straightened and called again, “Alex? I got cake!”

Michael checked the kitchen, but when he failed to find Alex there either, probably with his earphones in again, he set the box on the table and looked to Buffy with furrowed brows.

“Where is he?” he asked, and Buffy barked. Michael’s eyes narrowed. He called again, “Alex? Alex!” When he got no response, irrational panic was quick to set in. It was stupid, he knew, to be afraid for Alex when there was no sign of forced entry, no news of Jesse having moved from where they knew he was staying, and that was nothing to say of Alex’s ability to defend himself if he ever needed to.

Michael swallowed down his dread and quickly looked through the bathrooms, out the windows into the backyard, and finally came upon the bedroom. There, he found his airman curled up on the bed, the blanket at his hips as he drowned in his oversized baby-blue sweater.

The relief that filled Michael in that instant was almost ridiculous. He put a hand to his chest and sighed deeply. When he saw the headphones on Alex’s ears, left forgotten to play Alex music as he slept, he understood why the airman hadn’t heard his boyfriend calling.

“Alex,” Michael muttered with a shake of his head, and went to carefully move Alex’s headphones off. No sooner had he touched them than Alex woke with a start. “Sorry, baby,” he said quietly, leaning down to kiss the airman’s red warm cheek. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, I – I wasn’t asleep, I was just resting my eyes,” Alex shook his head against the pillow, his bangs falling over his eyes, his naked shoulder scrunching up as his sweater’s collar was so big it fell off.

Michael smirked. “Oh yeah?” He took his hat off and tossed it onto the nightstand, his attention on Alex. “You look pretty sleepy to me, Private.”

Alex suddenly yawned, and he turned to hide his face in the sleeve of his sweater. Michael’s heart jumped. “No, I’m – I’m good, I’m up,” and as he said this, he pulled himself into a sitting position, stumbled and fell against Michael for a second, then straightened again.

It seemed to take him a moment to realize he’d lost his balance at all, and he sat there, warm and toasty in a sweater much too large for him and nothing else, the blanket pooled at his hips, with furrowed brows, confused at his own lack of usual military grace. Michael pressed his lips together.

_Cute_ was not the word he thought he should use to describe an Air Force Captain, but _cute_ was the only word that came to mind as Alex’s lips turned to a rosy little pout, his dark eyes glistening, his sweater’s sleeves covering his fists as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Michael couldn’t help it. He wrapped his arms around Alex, and pulled him in against him, kissing his cheek, one closed eye, and his temple.

“That’s what happens when you try to stay up an entire week,” Michael said contentedly, resting his chin on Alex’s head. “Not even _you_ can handle that, Private.”

“I was doing fine,” Alex mumbled sleepily against Michael’s chest, his attempts at freeing himself having lasted no more than a couple of seconds before he relented and let himself be squeezed to death.

Michael noticed that the tighter he held on, the more Alex’s face squished against his chest and his cheeks puffed out. He held on unbearably tight.

“Mm, _Guerin_!” Alex whined, trying to move his arms and failing miserably. Michael laughed and kissed his temple again.

“I have the cutest boyfriend in the world,” Michael muttered into his hair.

“Don’t call me cute,” Alex grumbled.

“Cutie,” Michael drawled, swaying on the bed with Alex in his embrace. “Cutie, cutie, _cutie_.”

“I can kill a man with nothing but a spoon. I’m not cute.”

Michael laughed harder, pulling Alex with him as he fell back on the bed, the airman sprawled on his chest.

“There’s something wrong with you,” Alex said, but instead of taking his chance to escape, he nuzzled Michael’s chest and wrapped his arms around the cowboy’s waist.

Michael bit his lower lip as he ran his hand down Alex’s back, his other hand in the airman’s soft brown hair. “I brought cake.”

Alex looked up. “What kind?”

“Chocolate.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “You really do love me.”

A few months ago, Michael might’ve thought of making a joke in response, but when he tried, he found only the truth capable of leaving his lips. “I really do.”

Alex blinked, as if he hadn’t expected Michael to really _say it_ , and his cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. He settled back against Michael’s chest and sighed deeply.

“Later,” Alex said, his voice quiet, as it always got when the airman was shy. “Just stay here with me a bit.”

Michael pressed his nose into Alex’s hair, inhaling his scent. He toed off his boots and settled comfortably into bed with Alex in his arms.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.


	126. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex doesn't understand why Michael loves him, and he voices his thoughts to Kyle.

Kyle looked over his shoulder at Alex, and smiled as the airman thoughtlessly hummed what sounded like the Doctor Who theme song.

“Well,” he said, “don’t you sound just chipper?”

Alex raised a brow, and scoffed when he saw Kyle’s smirk. “What’re you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Kyle shrugged. “Just that you’ve had your _I have a date_ smile on this past hour. But other than that, nothing.”

Alex hummed, looked away, then looked back at Kyle sharply. “I have a smile for that? Seriously?”

Kyle laughed. “Why, you scared someone’ll figure out you and Guerin are going out again? Don’t worry. Everyone already knows.”

Alex rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the computer, but not before Kyle saw that his cheeks and the tips of his ears had turned red.

“Hey, I’m happy for you,” Kyle said finally, returning to his own file. “You deserve it.”

The usual silence returned for a good minute or two before Kyle heard Alex mutter, “ _Deserve it_.”

Kyle turned slowly in his seat to face Alex, a brow raised. Alex did this sometimes; he would start talking to himself, and if you were lucky, you caught him just in the middle of a conversation and had the chance to jump in. If you were even luckier, he answered.

Being Alex’s friend meant having to force his way into the airman’s thoughts. Kyle didn’t mind. He’d gotten good at it by now.

“Am I missing something?”

Alex turned his head to him. “What do you mean?”

“You have a tone.”

“I don’t have a tone.”

“You have a smile, _and_ you have a tone.”

Alex chuckled, shaking his head. “Is this the observant surgeon in you?”

Kyle leaned back in his seat. “I went to medical school for a _reason_ , Manes.”

“Nosing into your friends’ love lives?”

“Nah,” Kyle waved, “just my very _best_ friend’s love life.”

“Ah,” Alex smiled. “Well, there’s nothing to report. Guerin is very… very passionate.”

“Gross,” Kyle scrunched his nose. “Was that supposed to be fancy-talk for _horny_? That, I didn’t need to know, Alex.”

Alex laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Kyle searched his face. “Hey. What’s wrong, buddy?”

Alex shook his head, and for a second Kyle thought he would just deny there was anything wrong at all, but then he said, “I don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?”

Alex turned back to his screen, talking as he worked as if he needed the codes and alien symbols to help keep him focused on his next words. “He – I’m pretty sure he loves me. He says it enough, I… and – and he wants me, but… I… don’t get it.”

Kyle narrowed his eyes. “Okay. Leaving aside the _yuck_ factor of what you just said, you really don’t _get_ why Michael would want you?”

“I don’t know,” Alex shrugged. “Forget it, I just talk nonsense when I’m tired.”

“Nonsense? Hell yeah,” Kyle said. “Have you _seen_ you? _Don’t get why he would want you_ , you’re such a liar.”

Alex chuckled, the sound already more genuine than before. “Are you attracted to me, Valenti?”

“Absolutely,” Kyle raised his chin defiantly. “I’ve seen you shirtless. No one’s _that_ straight, Manes.”

“Okay,” Alex turned his red face away, his smile wide and his eyes brighter as he seemed to be trying to refrain from laughing. “I’m not listening to you anymore.”

“I mean, if you were single –”

“Just stop.”

“—and a little more open –”

“Michael _will_ kill you if he hears you say any of this.”

“Bring it on, I’ll go to war with an alien for you.”

Alex burst out into laughter, “SHUT UP!”


	127. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why Alex really enlisted.

Alex looked through the Wild Pony’s windows. He hated going in there.

He loved Maria, but he _hated_ going in there. There were always drunk men who believed the too many rumors going around about Alex in town, who thought that if they stood close enough, if they grabbed him hard enough, he would do whatever they wanted. It always made Alex sick.

He fell against the wall and sighed, playing with the silver skull and crossbones ring on his finger. Maybe Michael _wasn’t_ here. Maybe Alex was just worrying for nothing. Michael had told him, after all, that things were going to get better again, that there was no reason to be afraid anymore. Alex tapped his finger against his leg and tried not to think of how similar those words had been to his brothers’, assuring him, time and time again, every assurance a lie or empty gesture.

Alex thought then, not for the first time, of his family’s promise that once he enlisted, once he followed the Manes Men Legacy, it would all be easier. He could rise in his ranks like his brothers, he could lead his own unit, he could – as Gregory had so gently put it – stop _losing_ for once in his life and actually win a battle.

Alex shook the thought from his head. Why was it coming to bother him now? He’d told his father he could stick that enlistment form up his ass, and had been beaten for it. He wasn’t going to back down now, was he? Not when he had Michael –

_CRASH!_

Alex whipped around, keeping a distance from the windows. His hands turned to fists at his sides. _Okay_ , he thought. He would just have a quick look inside, and if he couldn’t spot Michael, he would turn and leave. He didn’t have to stay for longer than a minute.

“Come on, Alex,” he muttered. “Come on, move.”

With legs like lead, Alex forced himself forward. He opened the door to the bar, and stepped into the sound of country music playing from a jukebox in the background, and all of Roswell’s finest laughing and chatting with one another. In the corner, behind a billiards table, stood a man nearly three times as large as Alex, towering over the man in front of him.

Alex saw the man’s veins on his neck pulsing rapidly, his eyes bloodshot and angry, like there was nothing he would’ve liked more than to kill the person in front of him and be rid of him once and for all. Alex swallowed and took a step back.

Michael wasn’t here, there wasn’t a reason for Alex to –

“IS THAT ALL YOU’VE GOT?!”

Alex froze. _No._ The beaten man in front of the large angry one, Alex too late realized, was _his_ man. Through the blood streaming from his nose and coating his entire lower face, Michael grinned wickedly.

“Thought you’d be _some_ kind of challenge.”

“No,” Alex breathed, but the large angry man didn’t seem to hear him as he screamed and threw another punch at Michael who managed to dodge it and take a swing at the guy’s gut. He bellowed out in pain and backhanded Michael, throwing him against the wall where he crumpled to the floor.

“NO!” Alex ran ahead, and stood between Michael and the large man.

He looked drunk, Alex could _smell_ the whiskey on him, just as he could smell the tequila on Michael. The stranger barely seemed to notice Alex’s presence as he took another step towards Michael.

“S-stop!” Alex yelled, his body trembling. What was he doing? He _hardly_ ever managed to stand up to his own father, let alone a stranger that looked like he could _eat_ Alex if he wanted to. “Please, he’s drunk, he – he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He – he’s only seventeen!”

The man growled, but for a second, he blinked and seemed to realize that Alex was afraid and begging him not to hurt someone he cared about. He took one step back, and just as relief started to sink in Alex’s heart, he felt Michael grab hold of his shoulder and hoist himself up.

“Alex is right, I didn’t know what I was doing,” Michael said quietly and Alex, not knowing why, felt his chest fill with dread.

“Guerin –”

Michael huffed a chuckle. “I should’ve kicked you between your legs.”

The man’s eyes widened. “You little –” He reached out for Michael who was already aiming to throw a punch, and Alex turned and held onto his waist, pushing him back.

“Stop it, Guerin!”

“Don’t worry, Alex, it’ll be fine,” Michael grinned, his wild eyes on the stranger, the anger coursing through every inch of his expression too familiar, and Alex just barely refrained from running away. “I can take this guy.”

Alex pulled Michael aside as the stranger took a hit and ended up stumbling into the wall instead where his also very drunk friends laughed at him for having fallen. Alex turned to Michael, taking his face in his hands. He held back a sob. Michael was bleeding so much, he had bruises along his cheeks. Alex’s fingers shook against Michael’s jaw.

“Please, let’s just go, okay?” he whispered, trying to keep Michael’s attention on him. Could he even _see_ Alex anymore? “Let’s just go, and – and I’ll clean you up. Guerin, _Guerin_ ,” he tried as Michael kept looking to the side like he was itching for another fight. “I’m scared,” he confessed and Michael’s eyes turned to him. “I’m scared here, okay? Please let’s go, please. Please.”

“Alex…” Michael croaked. “Alex, don’t… hey, it’s okay, don’t –”

Alex wanted cry. _This_ was his Michael, wasn’t it? Maybe this time wasn’t like the others, maybe Michael wasn’t anything like Alex’s brothers or his father, maybe they would be okay –

“ _Freak_ ,” the large man spat, his angry, unfocused eyes on Michael.

He stood, and Michael’s eyes turned wild and unfocused again. Alex turned to Michael, the words, “Please, _don’t_ ,” barely leaving his lips before Michael tried stepping out of his hold, swinging his fists, daring the man to “SAY THAT AGAIN!”

“Guerin, please, _please_ , just stop –”

But Alex’s words were cut short as Michael’s right fist caught him in the mouth. In his surprise, Alex fell back. He was vaguely aware of what followed. Michael’s shocked eyes, Michael calling his name, Michael kneeling at his side, reaching for him, asking Alex to let him see how bad it was.

Alex felt the pain spread from his lip to his jaw. He reached up and numbly pulled his fingers back to see them coated in blood. Michael had hit him. Michael had _hit_ him.

Too late, he saw Michael’s hands reaching for him. He flinched away. He couldn’t take the shock on Michael’s face, the fear, the panic setting in at what he’d done. Alex covered his mouth was his hand and stood. As Michael called for him, he ran out of the bar.

“Alex, _Alex_!” Michael grabbed his arm when they were outside, the cool air hitting Alex’s lips and making the bruise sting painfully. His eyes burned.

Michael released him when he seemed to realize Alex wouldn’t run off. “I,” he tried, his eyes glistening as he looked Alex over as if making sure he hadn’t done any more damage. But he didn’t understand. The damage was already done.

“I didn’t mean to –”

“I know,” Alex said quietly.

“I’m – I’m sorry, Alex, I’m so sorry –”

“It’s okay, really.”

“It’s not, I shouldn’t have, I – I was just mad, I –” he took Alex’s hand tightly in his as if terrified Alex would snatch it away. He kissed Alex’s fingers, his blood covering Alex’s skin. _No more_ , Alex thought. _Not Michael’s blood. I can’t take anymore of Michael’s blood._

“It’ll never happen again,” he promised.

Alex searched Michael’s face. _Stop losing for once in your life, and actually_ win _a battle!_ He felt so numb. This would be it, he decided. His last loss.

“It’ll never happen again,” Alex whispered. Michael nodded, holding Alex’s hand tighter. Michael was hurting him. Did his hold on Alex always hurt this much?

“Unless I get in the way again,” Alex finished, and Michael froze. He slowly looked up at Alex, his brows furrowed.

“W-what?”

“Unless I piss you off? Unless you feel like fighting? Unless I do something wrong? Say the wrong thing?”

“ _Alex_ –”

Alex stepped back. “I’m _tired_ of hearing about all the ways people won’t hurt me. Fake promises, and I’ve heard them all, Guerin.”

Michael looked like Alex had slapped him. “I’m not… I’m not like that, you _know_ I’m not!”

Alex huffed a sob. His jaw hurt so much, and it was freezing out. He didn’t know what he believed. He was just a kid, damn it, he didn’t know why everyone was deciding what he should and shouldn’t know for him. “I begged you to leave. Why didn’t you just listen to me?”

“Alex –”

“Let go,” he said. “Let me go, Michael.”

And just like that, without any fight or resistance or hesitation at all, Michael’s features cooled, and Alex’s hand slipped from his. Alex supposed he should’ve been surprised, and a small part of him was, but most of him couldn’t be. He was always worth the beating, he thought, but never worth the fight.

As he turned away, holding a hand over his mouth to keep the wind from nipping at it, he thought it was fine. He would become stronger, one way or another. No one would ever lay a finger on him again.


	128. Malex & Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forrest kidnaps Alex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Forrest Long very much, he is under MY protection, but the prompt request made me do it.

Alex woke up in the passenger’s seat of a familiar car.

“Huh?” he croaked and tried to sit up only to find his wrists chained to the door handle. “What the –”

Alex’s words lodged in his throat when he looked to the seat beside him, and found _Forrest_ driving.

Without looking at him, his composure as calm as ever, Forrest said, “Don’t get mad, okay?”

“What did you do?” Alex breathed as he tried to sit up, but he felt dizzy and slumped back in his seat.

“ _Careful_ ,” Forrest growled. “The chloroform’s still in your system. You try to sit up too quickly and you’ll make yourself sick.”

“Chloro…” Alex started, and as he squirmed in his seat, his memory came back to him. He’d been outside the Crashdown Café, having just kissed Michael goodnight, and Forrest had come up to him, begging Alex to leave the cowboy and come back to him. Alex had been so shocked, he’d realized too late that Forrest had had a handkerchief in his hand. He’d wrapped his arms around Alex’s back, and Alex had thought he was trying to hug him, to hold onto him, when really –

“You _drugged_ me?” Alex whispered.

Forrest’s hands on the steering wheel tightened, his jaw clenched. “I – I didn’t have a choice, you…” he huffed an agitated chuckle. “You just _weren’t listening_ to me.”

“Michael – what’d you do to Michael?”

That was the wrong thing to say. Forrest slammed a hand on the steering wheel and the honk went off, the sound like an echo of screams in Alex’s head, making him flinch.

“DON’T SAY HIS NAME! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT HIM!” Forrest trembled as he released a shaky sigh. “This… this is about _us_ , okay? You and me. We always knew how to talk to each other better than anyone else did, right?”

Forrest kissed his fingers roughly and pressed them to Alex’s shoulder. He cupped Alex’s jaw with one hand, his thumb caressing his cheek.

“I’m sorry I yelled, baby,” he said. “I know – I _know_ – you hate yelling. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. I just… you’re the only really good thing I’ve ever had in my life. If I can’t have you,” he shook his head, and didn’t finish.

Alex couldn’t turn away from Forrest’s touch. All it made him want to do was cry. This was the man he had curled up against on his own couch, the man he’d spent countless nights in the bunker with, the man who brought him food and drinks when Alex forgot to eat, the man who had kissed Alex as if there could never have been a choice between Alex and anyone else. The man who showed Alex what it felt like to really be loved. Alex hated himself, and he hated Forrest for not being able to hate him now.

Instead, Alex tried to focus on what he _could_ do. He took a look outside the windows. He didn’t recognize where they were. It was a flat plain, desert for miles on either side, so that had to be a good sign, right? They were probably still in New Mexico.

“Forrest,” Alex steadied his voice, “stop the car.”

Forest didn’t respond.

“ _Stop the car_.”

“First time I asked you out, you looked like you were waiting for me to start laughing. Like you just couldn’t believe anyone would ever really want you.”

Alex stilled.

“Remember that?” Forrest scoffed. “Or how about the second time? When you told me to knock it off, to spit it out. _‘You need something, right? What is it?’_ Your exact words. _Remember_ , Alex?”

He said nothing.

“That’s what _he_ did to you. He made you think you were a monster, like you were some _thing_ that couldn’t be loved. Like you weren’t worth fighting for,” Forrest growled. “And now, he says he’s ready to take you back, and you go running to him. Bet it feels great. Bet it will until he decides you’re just too much trouble again.”

“Stop it,” Alex snapped. “You’re – you’re twisting it around, he’s not like that.”

“Then how?” Forrest demanded. “How could he choose someone else? You were _right there_ , and he chose someone else.” He shook his head. “I would never. You’re it for me, Alex, since the second I saw you, I knew I was screwed. I’d rather die than be with anyone else.” He paused, then, “I’d rather die than see _you_ with anyone else.”

Alex curled his hands to fists and swallowed slowly. Despite the anesthetic still in his system, his mind was already running through his training, what he remembered, what he knew would be useful, what would be useless, and what would be complete suicide. He tugged subtly at his chains, but every time he moved the handcuffs pinched his skin painfully, and he was left more nauseous and dizzy than anything else.

_Think, Alex. Think._

“I have some water in the back,” Forrest said, reaching back with one hand to grab a bottle. He hit the brakes, undid the bottle, and pressed it against Alex’s lips. As Alex drank, Forrest ran a hand down his hair, as he used to do, patting down the wild strands that got swept up in the wind and refused to come back down.

Having drank, Alex was able to think a little more clearly. He watched Forrest take a sip from that same bottle, close it, and reach back to put it behind him.

“Forrest,” he said quietly, “please take off the handcuffs.”

Forrest searched Alex’s face. “No.”

“They’re hurting me,” Alex whispered, his voice cracking. “Please, they – they’re hurting.”

Forrest’s frown deepened as he looked to the handcuffs and seemed to finally notice that they were turning Alex’s wrists a deep shade of purple. He muttered a curse, and leaned over the airman to loosen them a bit. Once Alex could feel the blood flowing back into his hands, he grabbed Forrest’s wrist.

Forrest flinched, apparently expecting an attack, but Alex leaned in and took the historian’s lips in his own. Forrest gasped against Alex’s mouth, then made a muffled sound like a sob before he hungrily took Alex’s face in his hands and kissed him deeper.

Their kisses were as heated as they always had been, their tongues sliding against one another’s, their moans silenced against the other’s lips. When Forrest pressed into Alex, Alex winced and pulled back from the kiss.

“My – my arms,” Alex said, moving his arms as if to show Forrest that until his handcuffs were undone, he wouldn’t be able to hold Forrest properly on his lap. Forrest looked hesitant to let him go. Alex looked away from him and scoffed, making it sound like a cry. “Don’t. It _should_ hurt. I deserve it.” He sighed, shaking his head. “All I do is hurt people, right? I hurt my friends, I hurt Guerin, I even hurt _you_. And you were the last person I ever wanted to hurt.”

“Alex, _no_ ,” Forrest cupped Alex’s jaw, his expression pained. “No, don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth,” Alex pursed his lips. “Look, even _you_ don’t trust me anymore. You were the _only_ one I could rely on, and… now I’ve disappointed you, too.”

“Never,” Forrest breathed and kissed him hard. “ _Never_ , baby. Look, I’m taking them off, okay? I’m taking them off.”

And he did as he said he would do, unhooking the handcuffs and letting them fall to the car floor before he straddled Alex’s lap properly and wrapped his arms around the airman’s shoulders, kissing him deeply.

Alex wrapped an arm around Forrest’s waist, kissing him just as eagerly for a moment before he pulled back. “Wait, wait, the – the car, you have to have to turn the car off.” He forced a chuckle, “Before we waste the gas, and get stuck out here.”

“Oh yeah,” Forrest panted, looking dazed. A smile pulled at the corner of his lips, and Alex felt no satisfaction at the sight of it. He knew it was pathetic, he knew it was stupid, but he only felt guilt lurch in his stomach as Forrest happily kissed him once more, and forced himself back into the driver’s seat. He turned off the ignition and pulled the keys out. Alex pretended not to watch as Forrest tossed them onto the dashboard. They were sharp enough to be used as a weapon, they would _have_ to be.

Forrest quickly came back onto Alex’s lap, and attacked his lips with his own. Alex moaned, and pretended to fidget under Forrest’s weight as he reached out for the keys with one hand, his other holding Forrest’s body close.

“I love you, Alex,” Forrest breathed against his lips, and Alex faltered. “I love you so much.”

Alex pressed his forehead against Forrest’s shoulder, the keys momentarily forgotten as Alex was reminded of a beautiful smile and sure words, asking him out, talking to him as if he was a valuable painting that could only be seen and never actually touched. Forrest loved him that much, Alex knew. His eyes burned.

“I love you, too,” Alex whispered, and was shocked to know that his words were not a lie.

He did love Forrest, he knew a part of him always would, but there was Michael. His beautiful, passionate, angry cowboy. Forrest may have had a piece of Alex’s heart, but Michael had Alex’s entire being. Every fiber in Alex’s body yearned for Michael, and it was for him, and to save Forrest from doing anything he would _really_ regret, that Alex kept his focus in mind, and reached for the keys again.

His fingers barely closed on them before Forrest seemed to realized something was wrong. But it was too late; Alex was too fast.

“What –” Forrest started, his brows furrowed.

“Don’t,” Alex said quietly, pressing the tip of the largest key to the back of Forrest’s neck. “You know what I’m capable of. You know I’ve killed with a lot less than this.”

“But… no –”

“You’re going to take us back to Roswell, and do exactly as I say, or I will end you with my bear hands, do you understand?”

“Alex, no,” he said, starting to sound desperate as the reality of the situation sunk in. “No, _please_ , tell me this is a joke.” He held Alex’s face tightly, running one hand down his cheek, his eyes filling with tears. “It’s – it’s a joke. Right? It’s a really cruel one, but I’ll – I’ll forgive you, because I love you. It’s a joke, right, Alex? Right?”

Alex’s own vision blurred a moment, but he blinked quickly and let the tears fall down his cheeks. He grit his teeth. “Get in your seat, Forrest, and take us back to Roswell.”

“Alex –”

“ _NOW_!”

Forrest searched his face, then, “You… don’t love me anymore?” Alex didn’t trust himself to speak. Something suddenly hardened in Forrest’s eyes, and he nodded.

He slowly moved off Alex’s lap, back into the driver’s seat. When Alex put the keys back in, he barely had time to lean back before Forrest slammed on the gas, and sent them flying off the road.

“I don’t care if I die, Alex, not if living means having to live without you, and as for you…” he smirked miserably, “if I can’t have you, _no one_ can.”

Alex tried to reach over to Forrest, but he knew that if he grabbed him while they were at this speed, he could get either or _both_ of them killed.

“Stop it, Forrest, _stop it_!”

“One way or another,” Forrest said and Alex realized with a panic that they were approaching hills. Attempting to fly over just one would flip the car over. “We’ll be together, baby.”

But just as the words left Forrest’s lips, just as they neared one hill, the car came to a gradual slowdown.

“What the – what the _hell_?!” Forrest stomped on the gas again and again, but even as the wheels turned, the car wouldn’t move. Alex then caught a familiar truck in the rearview mirror approaching them.

“Michael,” Alex breathed, and before Forrest could stop him, he forced the car door open and stumbled out. He would’ve fallen except that Michael stopped his own truck and leapt out, running to Alex’s side in an instant, and catching him before he could hit the ground.

“Alex, Alex,” Michael kept panting the airman’s name against his hair, his arms trembling as they held him. Alex wrapped his own arms tighter around Michael’s waist, burying his face in the cowboy’s chest and inhaling deeply.

Everything was okay now because Michael was here. He was here, with Alex, keeping him safe. Everything was going to be fine.

“Alex!” Max yelled, coming out of the passenger’s seat, wearing his sheriff’s uniform. “You okay?”

Alex nodded, and Max touched his shoulder as he passed as if to make sure for himself that the airman was really there and safe.

Michael looked up, glaring. He growled, “I’m going to _kill_ him.”

“No!” Alex gripped his arm. “Please, I don’t – I can’t see him hurt, Guerin.”

“Alex, he _drugged_ you,” Michael hissed, his grip on Alex tight even as he watched a restrained Forrest moving in his car. “He tried to take you from me –”

“Please,” Alex cried, and Michael seemed to finally notice that the airman’s face was streaked with tears. “ _Please_ , Michael.”

Michael’s face softened as he held Alex’s gaze, and after a moment, he nodded, not looking any happier about it.

Still, he held Alex tighter and kissed his head, shielding him from Forrest as Max walked him to the back of Michael’s truck to leave there as they drove back to Roswell. Alex heard Forrest call for him, and he shut his eyes tighter, holding onto Michael with a painful grip.

“I’m here, Private,” Michael whispered, and Alex felt the pain in his heart lessen, all but a small piece of it. “I’m here.”


	129. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria realizes how much Michael loves Alex.

Michael had felt helpless before, had felt lost, but _this_ … this was a new realm of punishment he didn’t know was possible.

Watching Alex lie on a hospital bed, day after day, with machines to help him breathe, with monitors as his only companion, beeping consistently, with nurses coming in and out, checking that his vitals were still okay, that his IV strips were still intact, drawing blood and giving him shots and massaging his leg because Alex wasn’t expected to wake up for a while and couldn’t do it himself – it was driving Michael up the wall. To see the airman, _his_ airman, unable to move or breathe on his own –

“Hey,” he heard a soft voice and felt an even softer touch to his shoulder. He knew who it was, but he couldn’t look away from Alex. Even if a glass separated them, even if Michael wasn’t allowed in because he wasn’t family on paper, even if Kyle had access to him every second of every day and just the thought of that made his blood _boil_ – Michael wouldn’t look away.

“Why don’t you go home and get some rest,” Maria suggested. “I’ll stay here with him.”

Michael said nothing. His arms were crossed, his hat forgotten on the chair behind him.

“Michael, you need to get some food. Some sleep. Maybe if you just… left for a little bit –”

“No,” Michael said quietly. He watched Alex’s fingers for any sign of movement, his eyes for any sign of a flutter. There was nothing.

“You heard what Kyle said,” she tried again. “He’s seen cases way worse than Alex’s and they’ve all woken up within the week. It’s barely been three days –”

“ _Barely_?” he said, and without looking at her, he could feel Maria flinch. “Feels like forever.”

For a moment, Maria said nothing and Michael wondered if she had given up. Then she took his arm and started to tug. “Come on, cowboy,” she said, trying to make her voice light, but even Michael could hear the strain. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“DeLuca,” he snatched his arm away, his jaw clenched. He felt tense all over, his very bones vibrating with the desire to uproot the entire hospital. He wished he could make a shield to guard the building, to assure that no one who could even potentially hurt Alex could ever come in, and that no one inside could leave until his airman woke up.

“Guerin –”

_I don’t look away, Guerin!_

“Don’t,” he grit out, his eyes focused on Alex. “Don’t call me that. Only he calls me that.”

Maria scoffed, was silent, then, “You really love him that much?”

Michael followed the cuts on Alex’s arms where the glass had carved, the bandage around his head where he’d hit it against the dashboard. _Every time_ he closed his eyes, he could see Alex’s car lying upside down in the desert, paramedics carrying a limp, bloody Alex out of the driver’s seat, Max pulling Michael back, keeping him from losing his mind even as he lost his voice screaming for Alex, begging him to wake up. Begging him to know that Michael was right there with him and that he wasn’t going to leave him.

Alex had stayed asleep, barely a nod to let Michael know that he’d heard him. Michael had done that. He’d let Alex be carried into an ambulance by strangers, had let Alex fall into a coma believing there was no one waiting for him to wake up. Michael had let Alex believe he was alone when Alex had done everything possible to assure Michael that _he_ wasn’t.

“More,” he ended up saying, and was only vaguely aware of Maria nodding and turning to leave, of her heels on the tiled floor as she walked away.

Michael leaned in closer to the glass, watching Alex, waiting.


	130. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex wakes up from a coma, and Michael won't leave his side.

Alex’s eyes fluttered open to a white ceiling and a monitor’s beeping.

He could feel something wrapped tightly around his head, something pinching his arms and chest. His vision cleared and he found himself alone in a hospital room. The sheets fell to his hips as he forced himself up, and immediately winced.

“Whoa whoa,” Kyle suddenly said as he came rushing in, the papers in his file falling out in a mess behind him, his hair ruffled and his coat turned inward at the collar. His cheeks were flushed as if he’d been running.

“Careful,” he panted. “You’ve been asleep for six days, Manes, you don’t want to push yourself.”

“Kyle, what’s –” Alex croaked and broke out into a cough, his voice hoarse from the lack of water.

Kyle seemed to realize his papers had fallen out, rushed to pick them up and toss the folder on the chair against the wall, and grabbed the water bottle from the small round table in the corner. He uncapped it and handed it to Alex, who took it gratefully.

Kyle slowly sat down beside him on the bed. “Do you remember what happened?”

Alex gave him the water bottle back. He nodded. The details were a little fuzzy, but he could remember his car suddenly flying into the air as if it had been lifted by a large invisible hand, and tossed in midair. Alex remembered a roaring in his ears before it all turned dark.

Kyle seemed to recognize that look in his eyes because his own expression darkened. “You think an alien did this to you?”

“I think cars don’t throw themselves off the ground,” Alex muttered, but the more he tried to think about it, the heavier his head felt, and he slumped back against his pillows.

“Hey, don’t force it,” Kyle ordered gently. “Liz and Max are already ahead of you. They’ve been looking nonstop over camera footage and blood samples for evidence that you were attacked. I’ll let them know you’re awake when you feel ready to see anyone.”

Alex sighed and nodded. At least Liz and Max were dealing with things for now, which was a relief as Alex felt he wanted to do nothing more than curl up and go back to sleep. Then –

_CRASH!_

He sat up straight in bed at the sound, alarmed, but Kyle only seemed exasperated. He looked to Alex, hesitant, then he shut his eyes, as if pained to have to say his next words at all.

“I know you don’t want to talk to him, but… if Guerin doesn’t see you, I’m worried he’ll start using a lot more than his voice and fists on the security guards.”

Alex blinked, his brows furrowed. “ _Guerin_? He’s here?”

“He hasn’t left since we brought you in.” Kyle shrugged. “When he saw you wake up, he tried to get in, but only family’s allowed. He’s –" _CRASH!_ Kyle flinched, “—not taking it well.”

Alex tried not to show his surprise. Michael had come for him? Michael had _stayed_ for him? He thoughtlessly gestured at Kyle to let the cowboy in, and Kyle, apparently relieved about not having to explain an angry telekinetic cowboy to anyone, hurried out.

In no time at all, Michael was inside, panting, his face stuck in a permanent scowl. Kyle stood at the door only long enough to glare at the back of Michael’s head before he glanced at Alex, and closed the door behind him, leaving the two alone.

Michael exhaled sharply, and strode to Alex’s bedside. Alex tried for a small smile, but Michael suddenly leaned down, wrapping his arms tightly around Alex’s body, and held him against him.

His body trembled as he hugged Alex, but the airman had no time to question it before he felt his ribs being crushed.

He gasped. “Guerin… can’t… breathe.”

Michael seemed to realize he was hurting him and quickly let go, but his hands remained on Alex’s shoulders as he sat down beside him.

Alex coughed, trying not to let it show how much it hurt his chest, and weakly shoved Michael’s arm, playing for weary amusement.

“You could’ve killed me –”

“I thought you’d never wake up,” Michael whispered, his voice breaking. Alex’s teasing smile fell as Michael searched his face, then down his chest and arms as if making sure Alex was really there. As if terrified Alex would disappear if he looked away again.

Michael brought a hand up, gently moving Alex’s bangs back from his eyes. “What took you so long, Private?”

“Uh – I –” Alex stammered, and as he felt the heat rush to his cheeks, he turned away, Michael’s hand falling onto the blanket covering Alex’s leg. “I’m fine, Guerin. Where,” he cleared his throat, “where are Isobel and Maria?”

“Isobel’s helping Max,” Michael said, his voice somehow more subdued. Alex noticed he said nothing about Maria. He risked a glance at him and regretted it instantly as he found the cowboy staring directly at him. Why was Michael acting like this? As if Alex was his boyfriend and he’d been panicked for him? Didn’t he know how much he was hurting the airman now? Didn’t he understand how hard he was making it for Alex to turn away and pretend none of this had ever happened later?

Alex winced, putting his hand to his head as his temples throbbed, and felt a tight bandage beneath his hair. His brows furrowed. “I – I’m okay now, Guerin. You can go.”

Michael frowned. Alex vaguely felt the cowboy’s hand cover his own. “Alex, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, as if this was supposed to be obvious.

Alex’s head throbbed more painfully. Michael helped lie him down, and every time Alex thought of Michael’s warm hands on his body, gentle and yearning, Michael’s scent engulfing him, Michael’s lips so close to his, the pain got worse.

Michael pressed something behind Alex’s bed, and Alex thought it must’ve been to call a nurse. _Good_ , he thought. _I could use some painkillers._

“I’m right here, Alex, okay? I’m right here. I’m not leaving you,” Michael promised. Alex thought he might have heard him say, _I’m never leaving you again_ , but he quickly realized that had to be wishful thinking. Michael couldn’t have said those words, not when he still chose Maria.

As his eyes fell shut, Alex could’ve sworn he felt Michael lean over him, and press a soft kiss to his cheek. He hummed, content with whatever the warmth was spreading throughout his entire body at that single touch, and the world turned dark again, Michael’s hand still on his own.


	131. Malex & Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex isn't answering Forrest's calls, so he and Michael go to check on him.

Michael looked up at Forrest to find him frowning at his phone. The cowboy resisted the urge to scowl himself.

“Didn’t we – uh – bring you along for something?” he asked with a smirk, trying and failing to hide his annoyance that Forrest was there. But it was unavoidable. Alex had promised him that Forrest’s information was not only helpful, but indispensable, and despite Liz and Max’s sudden love for the historian, Michael refused to believe he could be the slightest bit useful. Even now, instead of doing the work he’d so promised would be invaluable, he’d come in with his eyes on his phone screen and hadn’t looked up since.

Forrest, however, didn’t seem to notice the lightning glare Michael was giving him, and without looking up, asked, “Have you heard from Alex at all today?”

Michael blinked, already reaching for his own phone in his pocket. “What, you haven’t?”

“He’s not answering my calls,” Forrest said, already typing out another text.

“And that’s shocking?”

“Alex _never_ ignores my calls,” he said simply, as if he was talking about the weather. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world that Alex would respond to him.

Michael pursed his lips. So Alex wasn’t answering Forrest’s calls, that didn’t mean anything was wrong. Maybe the airman was just waiting for _Michael’s_ call. Maybe it was just _Michael_ he wanted to talk to. Michael had never believed that Alex and Forrest were anything serious, and as the other line rang against his ear, Michael realized that he’d been waiting for a moment like this, a moment when Alex just didn’t want to hear from anyone but _him_ , and then they could stop pretending either of them actually wanted to move on from one another.

When Michael was met with a voicemail, his heart sank into his stomach. Forrest was watching him, he realized, waiting to see if Alex had answered. When Michael dialed Alex’s number again, the historian’s shoulders fell.

“Damn it,” Forrest muttered. He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, and made his way to the bunker door. “I’m going to go check on him.”

“Hey, _hey_ , would you calm down?” Michael said, even as he kept his phone in hand. “Alex does this sometimes, he goes off the grid and comes back –”

“What about his headaches?” Forrest demanded, and Michael stilled. His face must’ve revealed what he was thinking because Forrest shook his head. “You don’t know. Alex has been having really bad headaches for days, _Isobel_ had to give him a Tylenol yesterday. You really didn’t notice?”

Without waiting for Michael’s answer, Forrest turned and left the bunker. Michael hesitated for only a second before hurrying after him. They both parked in front of Alex’s house not too long later, and as they made their way to the front door, Forrest spared him a glance.

“Alex!” Michael called as he knocked, his knocks quickly turning to pounding as he was met with silence. “Alex, you here?”

“Move,” Forrest muttered, pulling something out of his pocket that caught the sunlight and shined in his fingers.

Michael narrowed his eyes, his heart nearly stopping in his chest. “Is,” he cleared his throat, “is that a _key_?” Forrest didn’t respond as he moved past Michael and tried opening the door. “Alex gave you a key?”

“For emergencies,” Forrest explained, avoiding Michael’s eyes. Michael hated that. He hated the idea that Alex had told Forrest about them, that he had spoken of Michael with such regret that even Forrest couldn’t look at him with anything but pity, as if he could only be sorry for this poor, stupid cowboy who’d had Alex’s love, and turned away from it.

Michael shouldered past him as the door swung open, calling for Alex. “Come on, Private,” he muttered to himself. “Where are you?”

Michael stepped into the living room, his eyes travelling over the piano in the corner, and he briefly wondered whether he’d ever actually heard Alex play. Then he realized with a painful sting that he’d never even known Alex played the piano at all. He’d never thought to ask. His hands turned to fists at his sides.

“He’s not here,” he finally called out when looking at the music sheets became too painful. When he heard nothing, he stepped back into the hall and said, “Nazi guy, did you hear me? He’s not –”

“Guerin! I found him!” At the distress in Forrest’s voice, Michael felt a shock course through him in an instant, and in no time at all, he was in the kitchen. Forrest was on the ground, kneeling in some broken glass and water, and in his arms, his hair and shirt soaked and small cuts along his cheek and forearm, was Alex, unconscious.

“What the hell?” Michael fell beside Forrest, gently lifting Alex’s face in his hands. “Alex. Hey, _Alex_!” Michael pulled his phone out again, this time to call an ambulance, when Alex groaned and stirred awake in Forrest’s arms.

“Air,” Forrest said decidedly, and moved to stand, carrying Alex in his arms. “He needs air. Get the door open.”

Michael looked around for only a second before he saw the backdoor in the kitchen, and opened it wide for Forrest to pass through with Alex.

They sat on the back porch while Michael ran back in for a glass of water. Alex was lying between Forrest’s legs, his head against the historian’s shoulder as Forrest kept his head tilted up. Michael brought the cup to his lips, half the water spilling down his chin and onto his shirt.

Alex sputtered slightly, his brows twitching, his eyes fluttering open. He locked gazes with Michael then looked up, and seemed to melt with relief when he saw Forrest.

“Hey, there you are,” Forrest whispered against his hair, gently moving his bangs back from his eyes. “You okay? Can you hear me?”

Alex mumbled something incoherent and nodded, turning his head as if seeking comfort in Forrest’s collarbone. “I’m fine.”

“Fine,” Forrest shook his head. “Yeah, you sure look it.”

“You look more upset than I do actually,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” Whether it was or wasn’t, Alex laughed and quickly winced for it. “Good, I _hope_ it hurts! That’ll teach you to take it easy when I tell you to take it easy! You were up all night working, weren’t you?”

Alex shrugged. “I wasn’t worried.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“I knew you’d come,” he said with a hint of a weary smile, and Forrest softened for just a second before he seemed to remember that he was supposed to be angry.

“Not anymore!” he snapped. “Next time I’m sending Kyle to come get you!”

“You said that last time.”

“I mean it this time.”

“No, you don’t.”

“OF COURSE I DON’T!”

Michael watched them go back and forth, feeling more and more as if there was a wall growing, separating him from the two men. From _Alex_.

 _How long has this been happening?_ he wondered. How long since Alex had spoken to someone else like this; as if so certain that he was never alone, that there was always someone there for him, that he was _protected_? Michael realized Alex had never even really spoken to _him_ like this, like he was sure of him. Sure of his love. But he was sure of Forrest’s.

Michael stood, his muscles feeling like jelly but his bones like lead as he tipped his hat to hide his eyes. There were days he knew he could stare at Alex all day and do nothing else, but he couldn’t right now. Not when his airman’s eyes were on another man as if he….

 _No, don’t think like that_ , Michael thought quickly. Alex couldn’t love anyone else but _him_. Michael was sure of it.

Michael turned to leave, certain the pair wouldn’t notice, but before he could make it around the house, Forrest called his name.

He looked over his shoulder at them, at Alex’s arms wrapped around Forrest’s waist as if drawing on his strength, as if Forrest was all the comfort and safety he needed. It made Michael sick.

“Thanks for the help,” Forrest said, and Alex gave him a soft, weary smile before his eyes fluttered shut and he nuzzled Forrest’s chest. If he sensed anything wrong with Michael, he didn’t say.

Michael swallowed the lump in his throat, and nodded once. As he turned and made his way to his truck, he kept expecting to be called back, for his arm to be grabbed… for Alex to come stop him. But no one did.

Michael got inside and drove off, Alex’s house in his rearview mirror. _It’s temporary_ , he had to keep reminding himself. Alex loved _him_ , Alex wanted to be with _him_. No one else.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. This was fine for now. Just fine.


	132. Malex & Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex asks the Pod Squad for permission to tell Forrest the truth.

When Michael stepped out of his airstream to greet Alex, he hadn’t expected Max to suddenly pull up into his driveway with Isobel in the passenger’s seat.

Michael looked to Alex who was seated in front of the bonfire, his elbows on his knees, looking unsurprised.

He raised a brow at his siblings, wishing they weren’t here as he neared Alex’s chair, his hands on the back. Alex looked up at him with a slight quirk of his lips. It was easier now, he thought, to get close to Alex without scaring him off. Michael had even felt all the fluster without any of the dread when he’d stepped out of the shower to find a text from Alex asking if he could come to the airstream to talk to him about something.

He thoughtlessly twirled a strand of Alex’s hair in his fingers as he wondered what his airman wanted to say, and how he would get rid of Max and Isobel before Alex changed his mind and realized he’d rather go talk to –

“Got your text, Alex,” Max said, holding up his phone, looking from Alex to Michael and back again. “What’s up?”

Michael frowned down at him. “You called them, Private?”

“I wanted to talk to all of you about something,” he said with a sigh as he stood, mindlessly swatting Michael’s hands off his hair and ruffling it. “Well, actually, it’s – it’s more of a… request.”

He looked at all of them, doing that cute thing where he took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as if preparing himself. Michael always found it endearing, but as Alex caught his eyes and quickly looked away, he felt that small ball of tension in his stomach tighten slightly.

Isobel raised a brow, her arms crossed. “Well, Manes? Spit it out.”

“Yeah, Alex,” Max said, “I mean, after everything you’ve done for us, just name it.”

“I want to tell Forrest the truth,” he said, and a pin-drop silence followed for several seconds.

Max’s brows furrowed slightly. “You – uh – the _truth_?”

“You don’t mean –”

“All of it,” Alex nodded. “Project Shepherd, the Alighting, and….”

“Us,” Michael finished, a hollow smirk tugging at his lips. He stepped back from the chair where Alex had been sitting only a moment ago, his lips pursed. And he’d thought Alex had wanted to come talk to _him_ when actually all he’d wanted was permission. “Trouble in paradise?”

Michael regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, but Alex didn’t look insulted, only exhausted as he rubbed his face, sighing into his hands. It was only now that Michael noticed that the dark circles around the airman’s eyes were more prominent than usual, his face thinner as if he’d been missing meals.

Isobel’s voice, surprisingly, was soft when she asked, “Have things really gotten that bad?”

Alex’s hands fell to his sides. “He knows I’m lying to him. I can’t tell him he’s wrong, and I can’t pretend he’s crazy for worrying. I – look, you can trust him. I think he’s realizing things on his own anyway, there’s only so much you can hide when you’re asking the guy to do all this research. And he _has_ been helpful, hasn’t he?”

Alex looked to Michael, as if assured that even the stubborn cowboy couldn’t deny that. When Michael didn’t respond, Alex stepped closer. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but –”

“No,” Michael cut him off. “ _No_ , Alex.”

“But, Guerin –”

“He’s a _Long_!”

“And I’m a Manes!” Alex said desperately. “That argument doesn’t work anymore, Michael.”

“That’s different,” Michael insisted. This was so unfair. _This_ was what Alex had wanted to talk about? _This_ was why he’d finally texted Michael after weeks of strictly work-related back-and-forth? Michael felt angry. He wanted to hurt the airman, to take him by the shoulders and shake him and tell him to stop bringing Forrest deeper into his life, to drag him into the airstream with him, lock the door, and never let him leave. None of which he could actually do, so he would have to settle for keeping the historian out the only way he could.

“Why’s it different?”

Michael looked at him like he was crazy. Wasn’t the answer to that obvious? “Because I _know_ you! I trust you!”

Alex huffed like _Michael_ was the one not listening. “And I trust _him_. It’s the exact same thing, Michael.”

Michael clenched his jaw. _The exact same thing._ Was Alex really saying that? That what Michael felt for him was what he felt for some other man he’d known for less than a year? He was just about to ask Alex that when the airman suddenly said –

“You almost lost Maria for keeping this a secret.” He huffed a sad chuckle. “Do you really want the same thing to happen to me?”

When he didn’t respond, Alex’s expression fell ever so slightly, but before Michael could process it, Alex turned to Max and Isobel. “And you? You feel the same way about this?”

Max and Isobel looked to each other, sharing a silent conversation. Isobel nodded once to her brother, and with a hesitant glance at Michael, Max calmly said, “Alex, we trust you. If you really think Forrest deserves to know, and you know our secret will be safe with him, then,” he glanced at Michael again, “Isobel and I are okay with it. Really.”

Alex didn’t look any more pleased or relieved. He turned to Michael with almost cold resignation. “But you’re not.”

Michael shrugged a shoulder, the simple gesture leaving him empty. “This goes sideways, it’s not just your family that’s done the damage, Alex. It’ll be on _you_.” A look of hurt flashed in Alex’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. The words created a bitter taste in Michael’s mouth.

“Oh come on, Michael,” Isobel argued. “You said it yourself, we _know_ Alex.”

“Yeah, we do. And he doesn’t always make the right call. I think this is one of the wrong ones.”

“Michael –” Max tried.

“But hey, two out of three.” He smirked. “You have their blessing. That should be good enough, right?”

Without waiting for Alex’s response, Michael turned back to his airstream and slammed the door behind him. He waited silently until Alex, Max, and Isobel left, then he grabbed his phone off the counter, and unlocked the screen to Alex’s message that was left open.

_Can we talk? I want to tell you something._

His grip tightened on his phone. “Alex,” he muttered, sitting on the edge of his bed with Alex’s words still in front of him. “ _Alex_.”

Michael imagined him rushing over to Forrest, happy to just have Max and Isobel’s okay. Michael’s opinion didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was Forrest. And there was nothing Michael could do to change that.

*

Michael hesitated outside the bunker. Since yesterday, he’d been bracing himself for questions, for Forrest to look at him as if he was either the most frightening creature he’d ever seen, or the most fascinating one. Either way, it would mean someone that Alex had trusted enough to tell, someone that was now part of Alex’s life in a way almost impossible to remove.

Michael had dared to hope that with Forrest on the outside, there was a chance that he wouldn’t last long, that Alex had never really let him in. Those hopes were dashed to nothing now.

He took a deep breath, braced himself for the worst, and stepped into the bunker to find Alex and Forrest. Alex was seated at the head of the table, his chin rested on his palm as he looked over a file, with Forrest in the seat beside him, looking through his own history books.

Forrest looked up as Michael came in, and without a word, casually went back to his work. Michael slowly took a seat across from him, glancing at Alex every so often, but the airman paid him no mind.

Michael expected excitement or nerves, anger or even cold distance. But nothing happened. After about an hour, Forrest handed Alex a paper and said, “All the research I could find on the crop history in Roswell in the 1970s.” Then, with a resigned air, as if he wasn’t really expecting an answer, he asked, “And you needed these because…?”

Alex sighed, and plastered a smile that Michael didn’t believe for a second. “Air Force business. Shady ops, I have to know what they were doing in that area. I – I mean, I know it’s hard and risky, and you don’t have to help me look into the stuff –”

“No, I,” Forrest plastered on the same smile, except that even Michael couldn’t deny it was slightly more genuine. He reached out and touched Alex’s jaw. “Where you go, I go, Cap.” He stood. “I’m – uh – I’m gonna go get us some food. You hungry?”

Alex nodded, and Forrest kissed his forehead before turning to leave. After the door closed, Michael looked to Alex who’d returned to his files.

“You didn’t tell him,” he said.

“No,” Alex sighed. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

Alex shrugged, smiling wearily. “It wasn’t good enough.”

Michael watched as he worked, his heart hammering in his chest. He reached out slowly and squeezed Alex’s hand on the table, thinking for the first time since yesterday that maybe there really _was_ hope for them. Then Alex carefully withdrew his hand, awkwardly patted Michael’s, and stood.

“I forgot a few papers in my car,” he said. “I’m going to go get them.”

“O – okay,” Michael said, watching him head towards the door, his hand still cold from where Alex had let him go. When Alex closed the door behind him, Michael couldn’t help but wonder about the last time Alex had slept or really eaten.

Then he wondered whether his hope to have Alex again, his desire to keep the airman with him, was what Alex wanted at all. Whether or not Michael’s hope was slowly killing him.


	133. Forlex & Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forlex fluff, and Michael isn't happy about it.

Forrest reached for the remote on the coffee table, his fingers just barely brushing the device, but as Alex cuddled deeper into his chest, he stilled instantly.

He stayed frozen until the airman settled again, sighing deeply. His oversized sweater exposed his collarbone, the sleeves so long they covered his fist as it rested against his lips. His long lashes fluttered against his flushed cheeks, and his soft tousled hair tickled Forrest’s chin. And as long as Forrest didn’t move, didn’t wake him, then he was free to enjoy the view.

He reached the remote and changed the channel, his hand in Alex’s hair, keeping him close, inhaling his scent.

Then there was a knock at the door, and Alex nearly flinched awake.

“Hm?” he peeked an eye open, and rubbed his face against Forrest’s shoulder, already pushing himself up.

“No, no, go back to sleep, baby,” Forrest said, moving to stand himself. He gently shifted Alex off his body and back onto the couch cushions. “I’ll get it.”

Alex mumbled something that vaguely sounded like a sleepy, “Hurry back,” and curled in on himself on the cushions. Forrest made his way down the corridor as silently as he could, shushing Buffy who’d begun barking excitedly at the newcomer.

He opened the door, and wasn’t entirely surprised to see Michael Guerin standing on the other side. Michael, however (good ol’ Michael), always looked plenty surprised to see Forrest there.

“Hey,” Forrest tried calmly, looking over his shoulder to make sure Alex hadn’t followed him. The airman always had some freaky sixth sense when the cowboy was around.

Michael sighed, as if he couldn’t bother greeting Forrest back. “Where’s Alex?”

“Asleep,” Forrest said, his eyes narrowing. He crossed his arms. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing I would tell you,” Michael gave him a tight-lipped smile, and tried to actually walk in past him.

“Whoa, _hey_ ,” Forrest blocked his path. “I told you he’s asleep, I – _Guerin_!” Before he could stop him, Michael moved past him into the house with unnatural sleep. Normally, Forrest wouldn’t have been above tackling, but Alex hadn’t slept in _weeks_ , and the chaos of jumping a telekinetic alien to the ground was sure to make enough noise to wake the airman.

Michael, to Forrest’s relief, hadn’t immediately burst in to wake Alex. Instead, he was standing before the couch, staring at the airman as he slept with slightly furrowed brows, as if he hadn’t really believed that Alex ever actually _slept_.

Forrest saw Michael’s fists loosen, and the longer he stared at Alex, the more confused he seemed to get.

Forrest checked Alex himself. The airman’s eyes were shut, his breaths deep and even. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice so quiet it was almost nonexistent to his own ears. A small ball of tension in his stomach tightened at the thought of Alex waking because he sensed two people were just staring at him. “You saw him. Believe me now? Whatever this is about, you can talk to him about it _tomorrow_.”

Michael didn’t move. Forrest clenched his jaw. “ _Guerin_.”

“He doesn’t do that with me,” Michael said, seemingly too lost in his own thoughts to remember to keep quiet.

Forrest nearly clawed his own face. “Do _what_?” he grit out.

Michael didn’t look away from Alex as he said, “Rest.”

Forrest blinked. In truth, he couldn’t relate to Michael at all. Sure, Alex had seemed like a tense guy when he’d first met him, definitely someone with a lot of weight on his shoulders. But he’d also seemed like the secret softie, the one that warmed up quickly to the right people, the one who really did want to be touched and held if only someone held out their arms. Alex had the biggest heart of anyone Forrest had ever known; he thought that was obvious to the people who claimed to know and love him so well.

Forrest was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t realize Michael was reaching down to touch Alex before it was too late. “Guerin, _no_!” he whispered, nearly actually tackling Michael this time, but as his fingers brushed Alex’s rosy, warm cheek, Forrest froze, terrified of moving a muscle.

For a moment, Alex didn’t respond. Then, as Michael’s fingers reached his jaw, Alex made a small sound like a disturbed kitten, sleepily swatted Michael’s hand away as if he were an annoying fly buzzing around his ear, and turned onto his back, his face turned away from Michael.

Forrest knew he should’ve been mad, should’ve been jealous, but as Michael’s hand turned to a fist where it was hovering above the space where Alex’s face had been, as his expression turned cold, Forrest couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He himself had always known Alex as such a loving person, always willing to accept love wherever he got it that he couldn’t imagine the airman ever turning away from someone’s touch. He wondered how badly Michael must’ve screwed up that even Alex’s dreams pushed him away.

As Michael’s fist fell to his side, Forrest realized that Michael must’ve already known what a mistake he’d made. He thought it would be cruel to mention it now.

“Tell him to call me when he wakes up,” Michael said under his breath, brushing past Forrest so quickly that Forrest feared he would slam the front door behind him, but it closed almost soundlessly.

Forrest stared at it a moment, half-wondering if Michael was still behind it, replaying Alex turning away from him over and over. The historian tried to imagine what that would feel like. He couldn’t. It was too terrible to fathom.

With a sigh, he carefully returned to his spot on the couch, and as if sensing him even in his sleep, Alex turned onto his stomach, and lied between Forrest’s legs, his arms around Forrest’s waist.

He mumbled something that Forrest understood as, “Who was it?”

“No one, baby,” Forrest said into his hair, his other hand already tugging the blanket back over them as Buffy came to settle on the end of the couch. “No one.”


	134. Forlex & Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forlex's first date, and they run into Michael at the Wild Pony.

“You got me.”

“Screw you, you let me win,” Forrest panted, kneeling before him.

Alex blinked, the paintballs staining both his and Forrest’s clothes, though he himself was definitely much worse off. He tried not to wince as he dusted the hay off.

“I didn’t let you win.”

“You let me win, Alex,” he said, but as he shook his head, he smiled. “You military men, you think we regular folk are just made of paper, don’t you?”

Alex laughed. “Stop, I didn’t let you win, Forrest. Really! Besides, I –” he faltered as he moved to stand, the weight he’d been putting on his leg all day finally getting to him.

_Damn it_ , he thought, his jaw clenched. _Not now._

Forrest, however, seemed to notice, and his brows furrowed as he moved closer. “Hey, is your leg okay?”

“Oh yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said immediately, subtly pulling his leg in closer. Forrest offered his hand, and Alex took it, the historian’s fingers warm around his. Alex expected a crutch to just barely help him up, but with one tug, Alex was on his feet with a gasp, he and Forrest nearly pressed together.

“Uh….” Alex cleared his throat and stepped back. Forrest followed him with his eyes, his smile soft and genuine. Alex looked away. “Th-thanks.’’

Forrest frowned. “Alex, you’re _limping_ , are you sure you’re okay? Here, let me check your leg.”

“No, really, the paintballs just – uh – they sting.”

Forrest regarded him a little hesitantly, as if unwilling to believe the _Air Force Captain_ could be so badly injured by a paintball, but he lightly touched Alex’s shoulder and smiled comfortingly. “Okay. If you’re sure. You want to clean up and go get some beers?”

“After you,” Alex said, and as Forrest walked on ahead of him, his smile fell and he dug his fingers into his thigh, exhaling slowly through grit teeth.

He’d been waiting anxiously for days for this date. He wasn’t going to let his leg ruin things now. _Come on_ , he thought. _Just hold on a little longer._

For a while, Alex believed he would be okay. He sat in the passenger’s seat of Forrest’s car as they made their way down the road, Forrest’s still paint-stained fingers playing with Alex’s, tickling his palm and wrist until Alex was laughing, interlocking their fingers and letting go so quickly that Alex felt the loss of his touch more deeply than he would’ve thought possible.

As they sang along with the radio to How Far We’ve Come at the top of their lungs, Alex looked over to Forrest, and for a moment, he’d completely forgotten the pain in his leg. Forrest really was handsome, but every time he smiled shyly at Alex, every time he glanced at Alex when he thought the airman wouldn’t be looking, every time a visible blush rose to his cheeks when his stolen glances were met with Alex’s raised brow and knowing smile, he actually looked beautiful.

There was something so genuine in the way he reached for Alex, the way he worried for him, and though Alex wished he wouldn’t, he couldn’t deny it tugged at his heart to have someone concerned for him. It was when they arrived at the Wild Pony, stepping out of the car, that Alex felt the weight and the cold really refuse to leave him.

He clutched the car door tightly, keeping his head down to hide his clenched jaw. When Forrest came around, Alex had straightened his expression.

“I was going to open the door for you.”

Alex scoffed. “Sorry. Did I ruin your move?”

“Don’t worry,” Forrest winked. “I have a _lot_ more where that came from.”

Alex shook his head, his smile widening. As they made their way into the Wild Pony, Forrest’s eyes fell to Alex’s leg. Alex tried not to limp, but it was impossible. He worried Forrest would ask him about it again, but the historian suddenly held out his elbow, like a gentleman inviting a woman to dance, and Alex burst into laughter.

He took Forrest’s elbow, leaning some of his weight – only some – against him. “Okay. That’s a pretty good move, I admit.”

“Are you totally wooed yet?”

“I…” Alex trailed off. At the front of the bar was Michael, a glass in his hand. And Alex and Forrest were heading right for him. Alex quickly let go of Forrest’s arm, but not fast enough as Michael seemed to spot him (Alex tried not to think of how easily he and Michael spotted each other in a crowded room), his expression faltering as he glanced at Forrest and realized what was happening.

Forrest followed Alex’s gaze. “Hey. Alien Guy.”

He smiled, but Alex couldn’t miss the way he’d moved over ever so slightly, as if asserting his claim on the airman. Michael, evidently, didn’t miss it either. And judging by his narrowed eyes and hollowed smirk, he didn’t like it.

“Nazi Guy. And Alex. Together,” he teased. “Well, I didn’t see _this_ coming.”

“Me neither,” Forrest chuckled, crossing his arms. “Didn’t think the Cap would say yes, honestly.”

Alex caught Forrest’s eyes, and smiled despite himself. Then he caught Michael’s sharp glare, and his smile dimmed. He moved closer to Forrest’s side, and Michael’s eyes flickered down to his leg.

“You put too much weight on that again?” he asked, and Alex glanced quickly at Forrest, dread building in his chest. He expected the historian to start asking questions; was Alex still in pain? Why hadn’t he said anything? Was there something wrong with his leg? Alex really didn’t want to see the look on Forrest’s face when he explained why he walked with a limp. Not yet.

Before he could, however, Michael suddenly snickered, nudging his chin at Forrest’s hands, and asked, “What’s with the paint?”

Forrest looked down with a pout, rubbing his hands together. “Ah, that’s – uh – from our date earlier. Romantic, huh?”

“Very romantic,” Alex assured him, squeezing his arm slightly. Forrest seemed pleased with the answer, and he covered Alex’s hand on his jacket with his own.

“Okay, I’m going to go try to wipe the rest of this stuff off.”

Alex nodded, smiling at him until he was lost in the crowd, heading in the direction of the bathroom. His smile fell quickly, and he glared at Michael who was already smirking at him, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “He doesn’t know about your leg.”

“Stop looking so smug,” Alex rolled his eyes, taking the stool a seat down from Michael, keeping some distance between them. Michael didn’t look too happy about that either. “You and I both know you’re not going to tell him.”

“And you’re sure about that?”

Alex scoffed, crossing his arms and leaning back against the bar. “Please, Guerin. You really want to convince someone you’re the bad guy, try picking someone who doesn’t already know you’re the hero.”

Michael’s smirk fell away, and Alex laughed. Then he winced when Michael poked his right leg.

“Paintball? Seriously?” Michael pressed his lips together. “Are you _trying_ to wreck your prosthetic?”

“You know I’m not made of glass, right? I can handle a little strenuous exercise.”

Michael stared, then, “You let him win, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t let him win.”

“You totally let him win.”

“Okay, you know what, I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Do you like him?”

Alex smiled tightly. “Yeah, _definitely_ not having this conversation with you.”

Michael took a sip of his drink, and after a moment, he said, “You’re too good for him.”

Alex, startled, burst into laughter. “How could you possibly say that? I thought you told me you didn’t know the guy that well.”

He pointed at his head. “I have a sense for this stuff.”

“Stop it, don’t say that,” he said, shaking his head. “I think he’s really cool.”

“I’m sure you do,” he muttered. “And that’s why you’re hiding the truth about your leg?”

Alex’s smile dimmed. He rubbed his hands together. When he asked his next question, his voice was quiet. “Do you think it’ll scare him away?”

Michael said nothing for a minute, and Alex wondered if he’d heard him. However, before he could answer at all, Forrest came back wiping his hands on his jeans and seemingly happy to see Alex still there. The thought that Forrest had somehow thought Alex would escape in the last few minutes, as if he couldn’t believe someone like Alex would _want_ to be on a date with him, left a shy smile on the airman’s lips.

“Hey, I just thought of something,” Forrest said when he reached Alex. “You want to grab a late dinner instead? We could always come _back_ for a drink.”

And somehow, as he spoke, Alex heard the real question; _You want to keep this date going a little longer?_

Alex’s grin widened. “I _am_ pretty hungry.”

Forrest ducked his head, seemingly pleased, and he put his arm out for Alex again. Just as Alex was about to take the offer, Michael grabbed his arm, and turned him around.

“ _What_ –” Alex barely said before Michael’s hand came around the nape of his neck, his fingers digging through his hair, holding him close. Alex’s breath caught in his throat as Michael brought his lips to the airman’s ear.

“Anyone who walks away from you… doesn’t deserve to live.”

Alex’s brows furrowed, his heart hammering in his chest. “Michael….”

“So tell him,” Michael finished, pulling away. He sniffed, and saluted to Forrest over Alex’s shoulder with his glass before downing the rest of his drink. “You hurt a hair on his head,” he smiled cheerfully, his eyes dark, “and I’ll kill you.”

Without giving Forrest a chance to respond, Michael set the glass down on the table, grabbed his hat off the counter, and turned to leave. Forrest watched him with furrowed brows and a deep frown.

“Alex, what the hell just happened?” Forrest asked. He didn’t seem angry or annoyed, just confused. Alex couldn’t blame him. He could still feel Michael’s hands on his skin, in his hair, his breath against his ear.

“I… I have no idea.”


	135. Malex & Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds Alex and Forrest together at the Crashdown.

Michael was losing his mind. He’d thought it was bad enough when he’d found out Forrest and Alex were spending time together, but now he could _swear_ the two were following him. Either that, or Michael was just somehow attracted to pain, and right now, pain was wherever Alex was.

Even now as he sat down by the counter at the Crashdown, his eyes drifted to the corner where Alex and Forrest sat closely together in one booth. Michael blinked, and stood. The first thing he noted was that Forrest had his cheek nearly pressed to Alex’s as they shared his earphones, Forrest’s phone held between them as they watched something on the screen.

The second was that Alex laughing. Michael clenched his jaw. Alex _never_ laughed. At least not around _him_.

Michael looked over his shoulder at the door, contemplating just leaving. But, despite himself, his gaze kept going back to Alex, the way the airman’s cheeks flushed with his wide smile, the way his head fell against Forrest’s shoulder for only a second as he laughed, the historian’s own smile widening at having Alex so close.

Michael’s nails dug into his palms, and before he realized what he was doing, he slid into Alex and Forrest’s booth.

“Hey!” he said, his voice a little too cheerful, but he couldn’t help it. Not when Alex’s smile dimmed to something startled but more polite, and less genuine, at the sight of him. “Fancy seeing you here, Private.”

“Guerin,” Forrest said, his own smile turning small. “You here for lunch?”

“I am,” Michael said, his eyes on Alex. “You?”

Michael was reminded that Forrest hated when he was ignored because he suddenly put an arm around Alex’s shoulders, his smile tight. “Actually, we’re pretty much done. I’ll go grab us some sodas to go. You good?” he asked Alex. As if Alex was in danger with Michael here.

Alex, however, only smiled, amused, and nodded. Forrest patted down Alex’s hair, fussing over his windswept strands, and Alex laughed. The second Forrest was out of the booth, his back to them, Michael’s smile fell.

“How precious,” he said humorlessly. “You’re just glued at the hip these days, aren’t you?”

“I take it you’re not pleased?” Alex said with a sigh, slumping slightly in his seat as if overcome by a sudden exhaustion. “How do I make it better?”

Michael smiled. “Dump him.”

He might’ve expected Alex to get angry or annoyed, but the airman merely shrugged. “No. Anything else?”

“I just don’t think you should be so quick to trust him, Private,” Michael leaned in. “Remember, he’s a Long.”

Alex looked up at him then with a weary expression as if to say, _‘Seriously?’_

“He’s not like you,” Michael said, surprised he had to say it at all. “How much do you really know about the guy?”

“About as much as I knew about _you_ when we were seventeen.”

“And look how well _that_ turned out!”

“Oh I don’t know,” Alex said with a tight smile. “I actually liked making out in the back of your truck.”

Michael blinked, a heat rising up his neck and to his cheeks. It should’ve pleased him that Alex could talk about kissing him so easily, but the ball of tension in his stomach tightened. Was it concerning that the airman didn’t blush as harshly as he used to when he talked about their relationship? That he didn’t seem to shy away from it at all? Or had it turned so insignificant in comparison to what he had now?

His expression must’ve given something away because Alex’s expression softened. “Guerin, it was a joke.”

“Do you like him more than me?”

“Oh _come_ –” he broke off with a sigh. “I’m not answering that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have to?” He scoffed. “You do realize you have no right to ask me, don’t you?”

Michael clenched his jaw, a lump in his throat. “So you do. You like him better than me.”

“Were you even listening to me just now?”

“Does he kiss you better than I do?”

“ _Jeez_ , Guerin –”

“Have you slept together yet –”

“ _Stop talking_ ,” Alex commanded in a low whisper, his hand covering Michael’s fist on the table. Michael turned silent.

He hadn’t realize that his fingers had almost turned numb until his grip loosened under Alex’s hand. Alex was searching his face, seemingly looking for something, though Michael couldn’t imagine what. Admittedly, he couldn’t think of much of anything but Alex’s warmth as the airman’s fingers moved gently from the back of Michael’s hand to his wrist and back again. Michael exhaled slowly.

“You’re panicking,” Alex said softly.

“I’m – break up with Forrest, Alex.”

“We’ve already talked about this,” he continued, and the fact that he wouldn’t get angry, the fact that his voice stayed sympathetically quiet – it was all so inherently _Alex_ that Michael barely resisted the urge to fling the table between them into the wall, and take the airman in his arms.

Right now, he settled for turning his hand under Alex’s, gripping his wrist. “Alex, _please_ –”

“Time to go, baby,” Forrest suddenly said as he reappeared by the table. Alex tried tugging his hand out of Michael’s, but the cowboy held on. Forrest closed his eyes with a sigh, as if he’d expected this. “Let him go, Guerin.”

Michael glared at Forrest, his grip on Alex tightening. He didn’t want to let him go, to feel the cold that always came when Alex was away from him.

“Michael,” Alex tried tugging his hand again, “come on.”

Michael clenched his jaw so tightly he thought he might bleed. His fingers loosened only slightly, but it was all Alex needed to slip his hand away.

He took the drinks from Forrest, and without another look at Michael, he left. Forrest smirked humorlessly and leaned in. Michael slumped back in his seat, unimpressed.

“Alex is _my_ boyfriend,” Forrest said quietly. “You had your chance, and you blew it, okay? So keep your hands to yourself.”

Michael pursed his lips, his eye twitching. “You know I could throw you into the window with my brain, right?”

“Oh please do,” Forrest said. “In fact, I _dare_ you. Then we’ll see if Alex _ever_ so much as _looks_ at you again.”

With a final grin, Forrest patted Michael’s shoulder twice, and turned to leave.


	136. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation to chapter 123.

Michael opened his eyes slowly, his blanket at his hips. For a moment, he stared numbly at the sunlight peeking in through the curtains, the dust floating in the rays, then the pain in his knuckles kicked in.

Michael inhaled sharply, his jaw clenched. He turned his face deeper into his pillow, hoping the lack of oxygen would do something to cease the pinching in his hand, or the throbbing headache beating against his temples, or the images flashing in his mind. But nothing did.

Michael thought of Alex, his warm lips against his own, his soft skin beneath his shirt, his faint whimpers as Michael pressed him against the wall. His eyes shut tight as he thought of the way Alex had so easily fit in his arms, the way their lips pressed so perfectly together, the slide of their tongues against one another.

Then Alex had turned away from him, he’d known Michael had been drinking. It wouldn’t have mattered in the past, Alex wouldn’t have doubted him, but it mattered now.

_“What does it matter if I’m drunk? You know I’d want you either way.”_

_“No. I don’t know that.”_

Michael looked up, the pillow beside him empty. He slowly reached out and touched where the light hit, imagining Alex there, his long lashes curled against his rosy cheeks as he slept on. Or didn’t. Michael never thought of it much before, but he found himself wondering now; _did_ Alex ever sleep? He couldn’t remember a time he’d woken up to find the airman still lost in his dreams.

_Well,_ whatever survived of Michael’s brain cells whispered in his mind, _when your dreams are nothing but nightmares, getting lost in them has got to be terrifying._

Michael’s eyes burned, and he pursed his lips. He wondered if Alex was sleeping now, if he was still exhausted as always. He imagined his airman pacing his bedroom, trying to find ways to keep busy, to keep himself from resting.

He pressed the bottoms of his palms into his eyes, and forced himself up. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t stay here, in the silence, alone with his thoughts as they hammered against his skull. He raked a hand through his hair only to still. His knuckles were still wrapped in a white bandage. Michael still felt the touch of Alex’s fingers against his own as he cleaned Michael’s wounds, and Michael brought his hand to his own lips, kissing the bandage.

After a few seconds, he put his hand down and huffed. This was no good, he was losing his mind. He pushed past the pain in his stomach and head, cleaned up, got dressed, and headed out. The wind slapping his face as he drove woke him properly, and he soon found himself in front of the bunker.

He opened the door, expecting to be met with empty darkness, but the lights were on, and hunched over a stack of files on a table in the center was Alex. The airman looked up slowly, squinting as if trying to see Michael properly.

Michael might’ve expected him to blush, to stammer out a ‘good morning’ or ‘hey,’ but the airman merely blinked and turned back to work.

_Oh good_ , Michael thought as he briefly pressed a hand to his chest. So it was only _him_ that felt like his heart was now in his stomach.

He cleared his throat and tried for a bright voice as he made his way down the steps and into a chair across from the airman. “’Morning, Private.”

Alex hummed, his legs pulled up to his chest in the chair, his chin on his knees. He slowly turned to another document. Up close, Michael saw that the dark circles around Alex’s eyes were more prominent than ever, his hands trembling as they handled the pages, his shoulders scrunched as if he was freezing, even though they were nearing summer and the air was warm.

Michael tilted his head, his eyes narrowed at him. “Private, you okay?”

Alex looked up. He seemed to be looking straight through Michael. Had that kiss really meant _nothing_ to him last night?

“Hm?” ended up being the airman’s only response.

Michael opened his mouth to answer again, then thought better of it, and said nothing at all. Maybe Alex was annoyed with him, was trying to purposely forget last night.

“Thank you,” Alex said weakly, and Michael blinked. He looked up to see Alex had gone back to his papers.

Still, he couldn’t help the “What?” that left his lips.

“Last night,” Alex started, and Michael felt his heart hammer in his chest. “You saved me from that guy. I never thanked you.”

Michael searched his face. “You never have to thank me.”

“Yes, I do,” Alex said quietly, and returned to his work. “I can’t just forget about it.”

And Michael should’ve left it at that. He really, _really_ should’ve, but . . . he wanted more. He knew it was dangerous to want more when it came to Alex, but that look in the airman’s eyes haunted him. The way he’d _told_ Michael he couldn’t trust that Michael would’ve wanted him when he was in his right mind. The way he’d been convinced Michael _couldn’t_.

“And the kiss?” he said, looking down. “Can you forget about that?”

Alex looked up, and plainly said, “Do you want me to?”

Michael held his gaze. He shook his head.

Alex’s expression faltered, as if he’d been desperately hoping that would be Michael’s response, and didn’t actually think it would be.

Michael stood, his heart thrashing now. Alex looked like he was about to cry, and Michael _knew_ he’d done that. Here sat before him a broken airman, exhausted to the bone, and Michael had let him wither away without question or concern until he’d become too weak to hold in his emotions as he usually did.

Michael came around the table to Alex’s side, but didn’t dare come too close until the first tear fell. He knelt beside Alex, his hand hovering near his arm, but too afraid to touch.

“Hey, hey, don’t . . .” he trailed off, not knowing what to say. _Don’t cry?_ Alex _never_ cried, and Michael feared what would happen to his love’s sanity if he forbade him from it now.

So he did what he could to sit on the chair’s armrest as he wrapped his arms around Alex, pulling him in against him.

“Baby,” Michael whispered against Alex’s hair as he cried, his body shivering, and Michael wondered how much of Alex’s tears were because of sorrow, and how much of it owed to the fact that the airman most likely hadn’t slept in weeks. “How tired are you?”

Alex huffed a chuckle through his tears. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Michael dared lean forward, his chin on Alex’s head. “Okay,” he said. “I won’t make you laugh.”

He began to pull away, wanting nothing more than to look into Alex’s eyes and tell him how much he loved him, but Alex held on, pressing his face deeper into Michael’s chest.

“Not yet,” he breathed, and Michael felt his heart soar. He couldn’t believe Alex was here, in his arms. This was the beginning, he knew it was. Then –

“I don’t want to wake up yet,” Alex whispered, and Michael froze. Alex . . . thought he was dreaming?

He’d asked it as a joke, but now, as dread filled his chest and climbed up his throat, Michael couldn’t help but wonder just how exhausted his airman really was.

Michael held him tighter, his brows furrowed. “What have I done to you?”

Alex smiled against his chest. “You almost sound real.”

Michael kissed Alex’s forehead hard, a tear escaping before he could help it. “I love you, Alex,” he promised. “I love you so much.”

As Michael felt Alex go limp in his arms, his breaths slowly turning deep and steady, he knew the airman had fallen asleep. And still, Michael held on.

*

Alex had a headache. That was the first thing he registered as he opened his eyes to find himself in the bunker. Where he’d fallen asleep didn’t come too much as a surprise.

No, the _surprise_ was the heavy weight on his shoulders. His brows furrowed and he tiredly turned his head to find –

He gasped and sat up, Michael’s arm sliding from around his shoulders. Michael inhaled sharply, one eye open as he quickly sat up, seemed to realize that Alex was awake himself, and rubbed his eyes.

“You,” he cleared his throat, “you’re up.”

“What,” Alex looked around. He _was_ in the bunker, wasn’t he? Had he been so sleep-deprived that he couldn’t tell the difference between the Project Shepherd headquarters and Michael’s airstream? “What’re you doing here?”

“Same thing you were doing,” Michael said. “Working.”

“Working,” Alex repeated. He wracked his brain for the memory. What did he remember last? Coming to the bunker last night after leaving the Wild Pony? No, there was more after that. He’d been working for hours before . . . before . . .

Alex’s eyes widened, and he stood, backing away from Michael. Michael seemed to realize he would and showed no surprise, though hurt did flash in his expression, and for that reason alone, Alex didn’t turn away from him.

“Tell me I didn’t,” he whispered. “Oh please, tell me I didn’t.”

Michael shrugged, slumped in his seat as if he was waiting for Alex to realize something. But what more was there? He was already mortified at the memory of crying to Michael, clinging to him as if he couldn’t breathe without him. He must’ve seemed so pathetic.

“Alex,” he said. “Come here.”

“What?” He frowned. “N-no.”

“So you’re going to stay far away from me from now on? Will that make you feel better?”

Alex swallowed past the lump in his throat, his cheeks burning. “Listen, I – I’m sorry I cried to you like that, I – I was sleep-deprived, and I didn’t know what I was – I _wasn’t_ thinking, I –”

“ _Private_ ,” he grit out. Alex had never seen him so angry. “Come _here_.”

Alex stood still. Michael sighed and began to stand. “Fine. I’ll come to you.”

As Michael neared him, a whirlwind of possible scenarios swirled around in Alex’s head. Would Michael yell at him? Hurt him with words? Would he –

But before he could think up anything else, Michael pushed him against the wall, and attacked his mouth with his own.

Alex made a startled noise against his lips, but Michael didn’t stop for a second. He kissed Alex again, and again, and _again_ , devouring his mouth until Alex felt his lips go numb. His heart thrashed wildly in his chest, all his senses heightened; Michael’s scent, his warmth beneath Alex’s fingers, the _taste_ of him. It was all too much and not enough at the same time.

The second Michael pulled back to breathe, their foreheads pressed together, Alex panted, “What – what’re you doing?”

“I’m never letting you go again,” Michael swore, and Alex’s frown deepened. “Being away from you has been _killing_ me, and when you pulled away last night . . . I thought I would break, Alex. I’m not letting you leave, _never_ again.”

Alex’s eyes filled with tears quickly. “You want me?”

Michael clenched his jaw before kissing Alex desperately. When he pulled back, he held Alex’s face as if it was a treasure he’d spent his whole life looking for, and he breathed, “You’re all I’ve _ever_ wanted.”


	137. Enes (Max x Alex)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Chapter 122.

Max had no idea how hard it would be to avoid Alex until he was actively trying to.

He couldn’t believe it. Before Christmas, he almost _never_ saw the guy, now it was like the universe was having them run into each other every few hours. But Max had to keep away, because he’d figured out his problem.

This infatuation with Alex, it was just misplaced fondness, that was all. He liked having a friend who he could talk to about novels, who understood how it felt to be a leader, to have that need to protect the people he loved, who could make him laugh just by looking him in the eye. And in his heartbreak over his separation from Liz, he’d misconstrued that desire for friendship into something more.

Max had felt like a genius with that revelation, determined to simply stay away from the airman for a while, just until his heart stopped doing that pesky thing where it jumped in his chest at the mere sight of Alex. Of course, he quickly realized that when his brother was so in love with the airman, and that when Michael and Alex had some kind of weird magnetism that kept them in one another’s orbit, and when they needed Alex’s help for virtually _every other thing_ , staying away from Alex was next to impossible.

So now? Now Max was standing across Alex in his Air Force uniform, a table separating them (strategically, of course, Max was no idiot) as the airman pointed out entrance and exit points on a blueprint of another Project Shepherd facility he suspected had valuable alien technology.

“I’ve been working on hacking the security footage, but as the place _is_ meant to be top secret, there’s very little material to work with.” With a glance at Kyle who nodded encouragingly, Alex smirked. “But we’re getting close.”

“This is bound to tell us something about our past,” Isobel said. “Some of that material from the barn fire _must’ve_ been preserved. I can’t imagine it being destroyed.”

“When it was meant to withhold the pressure and temperature of outer space? No,” Alex reassured her. “I _know_ my family saved it somewhere, and I have a feeling it’s _there_.” He pointed at the blueprint again, his touch a little rough, and Max leaned in slightly.

“Well, if anyone’s going to save what’s left of our pods, it’ll be you, Alex. We trust you.”

That was probably the wrong thing to say, Max realized too late as Michael glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, but as Alex’s expression seemed to brighten, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Even after everything Alex had done for them, after _everything_ he was risking, he still talked about himself as if he was an enemy that they were keeping on tight watch, and that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Alex was their hero, their only light and hope in a crap-ton of misery and fear – how did he not know that? How did he not know how grateful they all were to him, how much they all owed him?

Then Max caught his brother’s narrowed his eyes, and realized he’d been smiling to himself at the thought of Alex. He cleared his throat and dimmed his expression as Kyle began rolling up the blueprint.

“Alex and I will get to work on the symbols,” Michael said, his arms still crossed. Max noticed his brother was still watching him. “If we stay overnight, we should be done in a few days.”

“Guerin, he needs rest,” Kyle was barely saying before Alex was nodding.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured his friend. “I’ll finish at the base in a few hours, and come back here.”

Michael nodded, shot his brother another look, and walked off to the bunker door. Max took that as his cue to leave, too, but before he could, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Alex was smiling kindly at him. “Hey, I wanted to thank you.”

Max blinked, unconsciously taking a step back. “Th – uh – thank me?”

“Yeah,” Alex chuckled. He pulled a small book out of his back pocket. “Journaling was a great idea. It really helped me get a lot out. So, you know, thank you.”

“Oh yeah?” Max felt a grin pull at his lips. Then he glanced over his shoulder at where Michael still stood, his smile fell, and he crossed his arms. “You, you know, _look_ better. C-calmer, I mean.”

Max supposed it was too much to hope that Alex hadn’t noticed his covert looks to his brother. He _was_ an Air Force captain after all, wasn’t it his job to notice everything?

Alex followed his gaze, and his own smile fell, too. “He said something to you, didn’t he?”

Max opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. He considered lying, but Alex’s eyes were so full of light despite the rigidness of his shoulders, the small upward lilt of his lips so sad that Max couldn’t help but think that between the Manes family and Michael, the last thing Alex deserved was to be lied to again.

“He . . . loves you . . . very much,” he said slowly, picking his words out carefully. He might’ve expected Alex to scoff, to look annoyed, to be angry.

But the airman only looked down, his eyes shut, a look of utter resignation on his face. _He knows_ , Max thought miserably. He knew how Michael felt for him, how possessive the cowboy was, and he knew that there was no way Michael was ever going to let _anybody_ near him. He knew, and for a moment, he’d hoped that Max was different. But the curse of being loved by someone who didn’t want to be with him was stronger than ever, apparently, because not even Michael’s brother had a chance. And Alex would be destined for loneliness until the day Michael decided he’d truly moved on.

Alex lifted his head, a soft, sad smile at his lips. He nodded, as if to say he understood what Max wanted so desperately to say, and he walked past him, stuffing his journal back into his pocket.

Max stared at the place where Alex had been standing, unable to turn around even as the door to the bunker shut, echoing throughout the cold place. The place Alex had spent all of his time working to give Max, Michael, and Isobel all the answers they were looking for.

“You okay?” Michael asked, and Max shut his eyes a moment, silently asking for strength, before he turned around.

“He’s miserable,” Max said as calmly as he could. Michael’s frown deepened. “Would you just _tell_ him how you feel? Because the guilt is starting to get to _me_.”

Michael looked over his shoulder as if to make sure Isobel and Kyle were too busy with each other, and when he turned back to his brother, his gaze was serious. “Don’t say stuff like that out loud.”

“Why?” Max shook his head. “Afraid someone will hear you and tell Alex? News flash, Michael; _we all know you love Alex_. _Alex_ knows you love Alex, and it’s killing him!”

“Why do you care?” Michael asked after a moment of being unable to answer Max’s question. “What does it matter to you how Alex feels?”

“Because he’s helping us,” Max defended.

“So it’s nothing to do with what you wrote about him?” he said, suspicion clear in his expression.

Max stared. “You’re never going to stop punishing me, are you? You’re _never_ going to forget about that stupid poem –”

“Yeah, I’m not, because I _know_ you, Max,” he said savagely, “and you _only_ write about what matters. And now you look at Alex like you – like he _means_ something to you –”

“He does,” Max cut him off, and Michael turned still.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means . . . it means . . .” he shook his head. “It means I know what he is to you, and I know that you love him, I do, but that love is only making the both of you miserable, so either fix things with Alex, or . . .”

“Or what?” Michael’s voice lowered as he stepped closer to Max. Max could feel the ground vibrating. Michael was losing control. “Or _what_ , Max?”

Max probably should’ve taken it all back, told Michael that it meant nothing, that he would do nothing. But then Alex came to mind, the way he’d looked down as if he’d known that here was one more person that didn’t think him worth fighting for. One more person that didn’t think he mattered.

Max’s gaze didn’t waver this time. “Or I’m going to get in between you, for your own good.”

Michael’s eyes flared, and Max was vaguely aware of Isobel and Kyle holding onto the table as the ground shook harder. They were startled, calling Michael’s name, trying to get him to stop. But they had no idea. Michael wouldn’t stop now, he didn’t _have_ control, not when it came to Alex Manes.

“You wouldn’t. Not Alex.”

Max stepped closer, his voice barely over a whisper. “If you’re going to kill Alex, then somebody has to save him. Or you’ll never forgive yourself.”

“Michael, _Max_ , what’re you guys _doing_?!” Isobel yelled as the bunker shook violently.

“This isn’t about protecting me,” Michael spat. “This is about your _crush_ on him, and knowing that he’d never choose you over me!”

Max searched his brother’s face. “Why didn’t _you_ choose him, Michael?”

Michael froze, the ground suddenly stopped shaking, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world had turned silent and still.

“You can’t answer, can you?” Max asked, and Michael pursed his lips. To Max’s shock, his brother’s eyes filled with tears, but instead of giving him a response, Michael gave him a hollow smirk and turned to leave.

“Max,” Isobel started tentatively a long moment after Michael slammed the door behind him. “What the hell was that?”

“Wait a second,” Kyle shook his head, his brows furrowed. “ _You_ like Alex now?”

When Max didn’t answer, Isobel pressed, “ _Do you_?”

Max caught his sister’s eyes, but said nothing. _It doesn’t matter_ , he almost answered. Because Alex loved Michael, and Michael loved Alex, and now that his brother was threatened with losing Alex, he would do the right thing. He would confess his feelings to Alex, he would do everything in his power to keep the airman close.

He would hate Max forever, it was true, but at least – _at least_ – both Michael and Alex would be happy. That was something.


	138. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Michael have nightmares.

Michael heard Alex scream, and he bolted up on the couch where he’d been crashing.

“Alex,” he breathed, and all but fell to the ground as he scrambled to get up, getting tangled up in the sheets.

He ran down the corridor and, without giving it any thought, swung Alex’s bedroom door wide open to find the airman sitting up in bed, his eyes wide. He was hugging himself, panting hard.

“Alex, _hey_ ,” Michael sat beside him, taking his face in his hands. His heart sank. The room was freezing, but Alex was in a cold sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead and nape of his neck. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s _okay_ , baby.”

“The planes,” Alex tried, his voice cracking and panicked from the lack of use, “the planes are coming!”

Michael swallowed the lump in his throat, pulling Alex in against his chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Alex was trembling.

“It’s okay,” he repeated soothingly. “It was just a dream, Alex. You’re okay.”

Alex shook his head, as if he didn’t dare believe Michael. “The explosions . . . they were so loud. Every—everyone was screaming.”

“Shh.”

“So much blood –”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Michael whispered, one arm tight around Alex’s shoulders, keeping him pressed against Michael’s chest, the other hand running up and down the airman’s hair, his spine, his arms – whatever Michael could reach.

They sat like that for a while, the room slowly bathed in light as the sun rose outside. Alex’s trembling form started to calm until he was completely still in Michael’s hold. And still, Michael held on, his nose pressed to Alex’s hair, inhaling his scent, if only to remind himself that his airman was no longer hiding in a trench somewhere, but here with him, in his arms.

When Michael had been offered Alex’s couch, he’d never expected he’d get within arm’s length of Alex, let alone get to have him like this. He knew he was selfish now, for even a small part of him to be satisfied that he had an excuse to touch Alex again, but it was only when Alex’s breaths turned slow and deep, his body turning warm under his touch, that Michael felt himself about to finally breathe.

Michael’s eyes fluttered shut as Alex’s soft strands tickled his jaw and cheeks. He kept expecting Alex to push him away at any second, but the airman remained in his hold as long as Michael kept him close, and the cowboy couldn’t see himself letting go any time soon.

It was only when he dared to press his lips to Alex’s forehead in a kiss that he felt Alex stir in his arms, turning his head away.

Once the two were apart, Michael watched – his body now cold after losing Alex – as Alex wrung his hands together tightly, anxiously, over the sheets on his lap.

“S-sorry,” he muttered.

Michael pursed his lips and shook his head, but said nothing. He missed Alex’s warmth, his scent, his soft hair and even softer skin.

“You . . . you usually get nightmares like that?”

For a moment, Alex said nothing, and Michael wondered whether or not it was even his place to ask, whether he’d crossed some line. Then –

“Sometimes,” Alex said quietly.

He sighed, pressing the bottoms of his palms into his eyes. Michael reached out a hand, let it hover over Alex’s shoulders, then pulled away.

“You – uh – you need me to get you anything? Water, or . . .?”

Alex looked momentarily startled, as if he’d expected Michael to run out the second he’d gotten the chance. “N-no, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Alex, if you need me to –”

“Really,” he said a little brightly, his smile small. “I can take care of myself.”

Michael had no idea what to say to that. It was clear, by the scrunch of Alex’s shoulders, the way he pointedly avoided Michael’s eyes, the way his body turned away from the cowboy’s, that he wanted Michael to leave.

Michael should’ve refused to, he should’ve told Alex that he didn’t _need_ to do everything himself, not now that Michael was here with him. But just as he opened his mouth to say any of that, Alex swung his legs off the other side of the bed.

“I’m going to go wash up,” he said, grabbing his crutches and pulling himself up. “You should try to get some more sleep.”

“Alex –”

“Take the bed,” Alex smiled. “I owe you, for waking you in the first place.”

Before Michael could argue, Alex was out the door. Michael stared after him, knowing he should follow, but also knowing that he would not be welcome to.

Slowly, and continuously glancing at the door to make sure Alex hadn’t returned, Michael fell back onto the pillows, taking Alex’s and hugging it tightly, deeply inhaling Alex’s scent. Michael sighed with a slight whimper in his throat, absorbing Alex’s warmth on the mattress and in the sheets.

He had no memory of falling back to sleep, but he soon woke up with Alex’s pillow against his chest, Alex standing in the doorway in a white sweater and blue sweatpants, his arms crossed.

Michael realized too late that he’d had his leg slung over the pillow, and let it go so quickly that he nearly fell off the bed. Alex looked down, and for a split second, Michael caught the upward quirk of an amused smirk. But as he blinked, the smile was gone, and he thought that maybe he’d imagined it.

“Lunch is ready.”

“L-lunch?” Michael rubbed the sleep from his eyes. When he looked back at Alex, he saw the airman quickly look away, his cheeks pink. Michael’s heart jumped. Had Alex been _staring_ at him?

“It’s past noon,” Alex said. “You’ve been asleep for a while.”

“Seriously?” Michael stood, and swayed on his feet a moment. It didn’t make sense. He’d never slept so long, never so comfortably, never so that when he woke up, he had trouble _staying_ awake.

Alex laughed, and quickly stifled it, but not before Michael’s heart did little cartwheels in his chest. He had made Alex laugh. He was so confused. He wish he knew what he’d done.

“Maybe you should go back to sleep, if you’re really tired,” Alex suggested, and Michael shook his head, crossing over to the doorframe. As he did, he noticed that Alex never quite met his eyes.

“No, I can’t – I have work at the junkyard today.”

Alex hummed, and turned back toward the corridor, their short conversation ended. Michael barely saw Alex the rest of the day. They had lunch together in comfortable silence, every so often, Michael itched to reach forward and touch his hand, to wipe the bit of bread from Alex’s lip, to nearly launch across the table as Alex’s tongue darted out and licked the bread off instead.

By the time Michael had gone to leave, Alex was outside with his computer. When he’d come back, it was well past midnight, and his body was aching.

Michael, normally, would’ve plopped down on the couch and gone to sleep, but it was as if his legs had a mind of their own. Before Michael realized what he was doing, he found himself in Alex’s bedroom, standing by the open door. Alex was curled up in bed on his side, the blanket at his hips.

Michael leaned against the doorframe, watching him for what felt like half an hour. Finally, when he was sure Alex wouldn’t wake, he quietly stepped inside and pulled Alex’s blanket up to his shoulder. His fingers brushed the skin revealed beneath the wide collar, then he brought his hand up Alex’s neck, his eyes fluttering at the touch of the warm, soft skin.

Michael felt his body vibrate, every cell in his body urging him to touch Alex, to feel him against him. He knew why he hadn’t been able to sleep until he’d been in Alex’s bed – he was never at peace until he was with Alex.

Michael hesitated for what must’ve been hours, then he silently kicked off his boots and left his hat on the nightstand. He knew he probably reeked, his body having been damp with sweat until a few hours ago, but as he sat on the edge of the bed, his hand roaming up and down Alex’s waist, he felt exhaustion already overwhelming.

He stretched along the airman’s back, wrapping an arm around his waist. His eyes burned as he pressed his lips to Alex’s hair, then kissed the nape of his neck. He thought of the coming morning, when Alex would undoubtedly kick him out, disgusted with him. But just tonight, he wanted to feel Alex close. He wanted the thoughts and hopes and yearning for Alex that had been flooding his mind since he’d come to stay at the airman’s home to be a reality, if only for a short time.

He buried his face in the crook of Alex’s neck, kissing the skin there hard, his arm wrapped around the airman’s waist tighter.

_You won’t hate me, will you, Private? I’m your Michael. You’d never hate me._

But even as he thought this, his jaw clenched painfully. Then he felt Alex’s hand on his around his waist, and he gasped.

Alex looked like he was still asleep, and his hand on Michael’s was slow and gentle, as if, even in his sleep, he wanted to take his time touching Michael, feeling his skin.

“Baby,” Michael breathed, holding Alex so tightly against him that it must’ve hurt. Still, Alex’s thumb brushed the back of Michael’s wrist, keeping him close.

Michael nuzzled the crook of Alex’s neck, breathing him in. He fell asleep to Alex’s warmth.


	139. Malex & Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex fell asleep with Forrest, and Michael isn't happy about it.

Michael didn’t care that Alex was falling asleep at the bar. In fact, it always did something to his chest to see his airman curl in on himself, his fringe falling over his eyes, his lips turned out in a pout despite himself as he buried his face in his arms like a kitten getting ready for bed.

Every time it used to happen, when the exhaustion became too much and Alex lost all sense of where he was, Michael would take the stool beside him and guard him as he slept, waking him only when he himself planned to leave.

So, really, a sleeping Alex was the only time Michael got to have him. Except now, Alex didn’t curl in on himself, he curled against _Forrest’s_ side. He didn’t bury his head in his arms, but he let it fall instead onto _Forrest’s_ shoulder. And it wasn’t Michael guarding him, but _Forrest’s_ arm that came around Alex’s shoulders, keeping him in place and safe from anyone that tried to come wake him.

Alex sat up for the third time, visibly shook his head to rid himself of the exhaustion, then his eyes shut again and his head fell back onto Forrest’s shoulder. Forrest looked at him with a fond smile, as if he hadn’t known just what Alex would do, only that it would be cute, and that the airman had not disappointed.

Michael nearly moved seats to Alex’s side, but as Forrest turned to smile in Alex’s hair and Alex cuddled deeper into his shoulder, the cowboy found the weight in his stomach too heavy to allow him to move at all. Every now and then, Michael would subtly lean over to watch Alex’s sleeping face, see Forrest lightly kiss his forehead, and he’d lean back again, sick to his stomach.

It was only when the bar dimmed and nearly no one else was left that Forrest finally started to stir under Alex. For a second (and not at all because Michael had been staring out of the corner of his eyes), Michael thought Forrest was starting to get annoyed at having the airman resting against him, and anger stirred in his gut alongside hope. Forrest wasn’t as fond of Alex as he was pretending to be, as Michael _knew_ he was pretending to be.

He got to his feet just as Forrest reached into his pocket, ready to take Alex in his arms instead, but then the historian dumped some cash on the bar, moved closer to Alex, and Michael stilled.

Forrest moved his arm from Alex’s shoulders lower down to his back. He smiled into Alex’s hair, his eyes falling shut.

“Hey,” Michael heard him whisper into the soft strands. “Baby. It’s time to go.”

Alex mumbled something sleepily, nuzzling Forrest’s collarbone. Forrest huffed a chuckle before kissing Alex’s forehead again. Michael thought he would try to rouse him again, but Forrest just crouched slightly, his other arm coming underneath Alex’s legs.

Michael couldn’t believe it, not even as Forrest leaned into Alex’s ear and said, “Put your arms around me, baby.” He expected Alex to wake at that point, to _refuse_ Forrest’s offer – because how could he? He was Alex Manes, he didn’t show weakness, he didn’t need help, and he certainly never let a man touch him like that in public, even if it was only a few people left at the pool table.

But Michael’s expression fell apart as Alex inhaled deeply, his eyes still closed, his face at peace as he wrapped his arms around Forrest’s neck.

Forrest nudged a farewell to Michael with his chin. “’Night,” he said, seemingly oblivious to the look of shock on Michael’s face.

Forrest managed to easily open the door with Alex still in his arms, his face buried in the crook of Forrest’s neck. Michael leaned over in his seat to watch Alex until he was out the door. When it closed behind them, he nearly fell limp in his seat.

Alex had let himself be carried. Alex had let someone that _wasn’t Michael_ carry him.

“Hey,” Max nudged him as he took back his seat next to Michael. “Oh you’re done staring at Alex, then. You ready to go?”

Michael said nothing. Max raised a brow.

“Michael? _Hello_? Can you hear me?”

“I’ve lost him,” Michael breathed, unable to say anything else. Forrest had taken Michael’s place, and Alex was happier for it. “I . . . I’ve lost him.”

Max didn’t seem to need an explanation as to who ‘him’ was, but he did seem startled by the despair in Michael’s voice. Michael was sure he’d never felt so lost in his life. Max clasped his shoulder tightly and sighed.

“I’ve lost him, Max. I’ve lost Alex.”


	140. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael wakes up in a fantasy.

When Michael had opened his eyes to find himself, not only in an unfamiliar bed, but with Alex in his arms, he knew he was dreaming. Not that he did much to try to wake himself up.

He didn’t get these dreams often, or not as often as he would’ve liked, anyway. And now, with Alex curled in against his chest, his long lashes fluttering against his rosy cheeks, Michael could do nothing but slowly rest his head back down and stare at him, his heart hammering in his chest at the fear of waking up too soon.

He leaned forward, gently nuzzling Alex’s cheek, inhaling his scent. Everything about him felt so real, so warm. Michael’s eyes fluttered shut, and when he opened them again, he saw Alex looking up at him with dark, beautiful eyes.

Michael swallowed. He had to remind himself he was dreaming as Alex reached up and lightly touched his stubbled jaw, Michael’s heart thrashing at the contact.

He closed his eyes and turned into the touch, letting his forehead fall onto Alex’s, soaking every bit of him that he could before reality kicked in and he woke up in bed alone, or . . . with someone else. He had no memory of the night before, what he’d done to be dreaming of Alex now, but as he reached a hand through Alex’s soft hair and let his fingers fall down the airman’s smooth back, he found himself not caring. Not so long as he got to have Alex now.

As Michael leaned down to kiss his lips, then jaw, then neck, Alex burst into giggles beneath him. “Stop, you know I’m ticklish there.”

Michael looked up through his lashes from where he was kissing the airman’s collarbone. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Even Alex’s _laugh_ sounded real. “But I like the way you taste here.”

“Get off me,” Alex burst into laughter, pushing his shoulder.

Michael’s smile fell as Alex moved to sit up. This was it, the moment he usually started to wake, but even as Alex swung his legs over the edge of the bed, Michael found he was still there, the blankets still pooled at his hips, his body all the colder for losing Alex.

Michael frowned. What was happening? Why wasn’t he waking up?

“Uh – wait, wait,” he said, pushing himself off the bed. If he was going to be awake a little longer, he wanted to enjoy the fantasy. He pressed Alex against the wall of the unfamiliar bedroom – _weird_ , considering they’re usually always in his airstream when he dreamed of them together – and kissed him hungrily.

Alex kissed him back just as eagerly, gasping his name as Michael kissed down his neck and sucked at the soft spot between his neck and shoulder. All the while, he couldn’t help the thought that this all felt so _real_. _Too_ real.

As Alex’s hands scratched down his back, Michael’s eyes fluttered shut, and he took Alex’s lips back in his. He ran one hand up and down Alex’s side, the other around his waist, holding him in place. He should’ve woken by now, the fantasy should’ve dimmed a little, but Alex still felt as real as he had a moment ago, the ground beneath his feet just as solid. He knew he should’ve questioned it more, but as Alex moaned against his lips, he couldn’t bring himself to care too much. Then –

 _Knock knock knock._ Michael almost jumped, but Alex seemed quite unsurprised by the intrusion.

“Boys, pancakes,” a familiar voice sounded, and Alex responded with a roll of his eyes and a smile.

“Coming!” he said and kissed Michael’s jaw. “Come on. You know how upset he gets if we don’t eat them fresh.”

“He,” Michael repeated slowly, but Alex had already pressed a last kiss to his cheek before slipping into the bathroom.

As running water sounded from inside, Michael took another look around the room, his brows furrowed. He stepped back towards the bed, hoping it would push Dream Alex to follow him, but he hissed as he suddenly stepped on his belt buckle.

He frowned at the discarded pants a second before realization hit. Michael quickly reached over and pinched himself, hard.

“ _Ah_ ,” he winced, the skin already turning red.

“What’re you doing?” Alex asked, and Michael turned to see him with a small towel in hand, the tips of his hair sticking to his face where he’d washed.

Michael stared. This was real. Alex was real, and he was staring at him, and wondering what was happening. Michael wished he could tell him, but he had no idea.

“U-uh . . .”

Alex frowned, stepping closer. “Are you okay?”

“I – Alex . . .” he tried out Alex’s name on his lips, expecting himself to come to some revelation or deep understanding of what was going on at the sound of it, but Alex only watched him expectedly, the concern in his eyes growing.

Michael swallowed. “Where – uh – where are we?”

Alex’s expression turned to relief, and he smiled. “Ha ha, very funny,” and he threw the towel at Michael. “You really had me going for a second there. Now, would you hurry up, please? Otherwise, dad will just take all the whipped-cream for himself.”

Michael’s heart stuttered in his chest. “ _Jesse_?”

Alex, seemingly unaware of the millions of questions and exclamations that just flooded Michael’s head, shrugged. “Yeah, okay, he’ll probably save _you_ some, but _me_ –”

Michael stepped towards him. “Jesse’s here? _Now_?”

Alex stared. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Michael knew it was stupid, that he _had_ to have been dreaming somehow, despite the pain still tingling in his arm where he’d purposely hurt himself. But as Alex started to look worried again, Michael found himself nodding numbly.

“Hey,” Alex stepped closer, cupping his jaw, and his hand was so warm, his _presence_ so real, that Michael couldn’t help but reach up to hold the airman’s waist to keep him close. “I know it’s weird spending the holidays away from Isobel and Max, but it’s just a couple of days. We’ll be back in Roswell before New Year’s, I promise.”

And Alex’s smile was so soft, his voice so gentle, his eyes so loving that Michael pulled him in against his chest, burying his face in the crook of Alex’s neck, his eyes still wide and his brows furrowed. He clung desperately to Alex for several minutes, and not once did the airman pull away or squirm. He held Michael back just as tightly, his fingers gently raking Michael’s curls, making the cowboy’s eyes flutter shut.

When he felt like he could somewhat think, he released Alex with a kiss to his neck, and plastered on what he hoped was a convincing smile. Alex clearly wasn’t fooled, but he kissed Michael’s nose and turned back to the bathroom. As soon as the door was closed, Michael hurried to the window, taking a look outside.

The ground was covered in snow, and while they were by no means the only house around, the land where they stood was clearly large. Michael’s confusion grew. _Santa Fe._ They were in Santa Fe. What the _hell_?

As soon as he had the bathroom, he splashed his face with ice water, wincing at the cold. _Wake up_ , he thought. _Wake up, wake up, wake up!_

This couldn’t be real, no matter how it felt. Something was wrong, and Michael couldn’t figure out what. He urged himself to think. What _had_ he been doing last night? How did he end up here? He couldn’t remember, that _couldn’t_ be normal.

“Think, Guerin, _think_.”

Something about fantasies, a dark face with dark eyes, an evil smile. But the memories left as soon as they came, and a moment later, Michael opened his eyes to find himself gripping the bathroom sink for dear life, Alex’s knocking at the door waking him from his thoughts. Had he slipped out of consciousness a moment there? Wasn’t that good?

“Michael?”

“I’m – I’m okay,” he called, coming close to the door. He reached out to touch it, imagining Alex on the other side, worried for him.

Even if this _was_ a dream, did he really even _want_ to wake up? He had Alex here, with him. In his other reality, he was with someone else. But he didn’t want anyone else, he had _never_ wanted anyone else. He only wanted Alex.

He washed his face again, thinking that maybe a few more minutes in this fantasy couldn’t hurt if he got to have the airman. With the resolve that he would try his hardest to figure out more in mind, that he couldn’t raise suspicion now in case this all turned out to be a trick, Michael finished up in the bathroom and came out to find Alex putting on his boots.

“There you are,” he said, his smile soft.

Michael stood in front of him for a moment, touching his hair as he adjusted his shoes. The soft strands were like silk against his fingers.

“What’re you doing?” Alex laughed, taking Michael’s hand and tugging him down. He easily kissed Michael’s lips as if this was something they did all the time.

As he moved to pull back, Michael cupped his jaw and turned his head to deepen the kiss. He wrapped one arm around Alex’s waist, following him down onto the bed, laying him on his back, kissing him even as he laughed and tried to pull away.

“Stop,” he said, gently pushing Michael off. “The last thing we need is Flint bursting in here with the excuse that we were late.”

“Flint,” Michael repeated. Alex’s family was here, and Alex wasn’t flinching at the mention of them.

“I know,” Alex stood, pecking Michael’s lips. “That man will blackmail anything.”

“Are y’all talking about me?” a voice suddenly said from behind the door, and Michael assumed it was Flint. “Should I be flattered or insulted?”

“You’re such a –” Alex dashed across the room and opened the door in time to see his brother bolting away with a laugh. “Dad!” he yelled. “Flint keeps eavesdropping on us! It’s _weird_!”

“Flint! How old are you?” Jesse scolded from somewhere inside.

“They’re talking about me in bed!” Flint yelled back. “And _I’m_ weird?!”

Michael’s hands curled to fists. He knew these people were Alex’s brothers and father, that in whatever dreamland he was in, they weren’t the villains, but at the sound of their voices, he couldn’t help but feel rage course throughout his body.

The next thing he knew, the entire house was shaking, and Alex stumbled and fell with the shock.

“Ah!” he winced as his knee hit a drawer knob on his way down.

The ground instantly turned still as Michael registered the pain on Alex’s face. “A-Alex –” he quickly fell to the airman’s side, one hand gripping the knee he was clutching.

“Alex, hey, I’m – I’m so sorry, Alex –” he reached out to touch him, but then Alex caught his eyes, and Michael saw something familiar, something he was sure he himself had woken up with. _Shock and confusion._

Alex’s brows furrowed. “Guerin?” he breathed.

Michael stilled, not daring to hope. Was it true, then? He was dreaming? But then, how was Alex snapping out of it, too?

But as Michael blinked, Alex’s confusion was gone, and something in his expression cleared. He smiled painfully. “I’m – I’m okay. Are you? Why’d you use your powers?”

“I –” Michael shook his head. “Alex . . . did you just –”

“Boys, you all right?” Jesse appeared at the door, a whisk in hand and an apron strapped to his chest. “We felt the earthquake.”

“Everything’s fine – _dad_ , I’m fine, I can stand on my own,” Alex said as Jesse helped him to his feet.

“I know you can,” Jesse said, patting down Alex’s hair, making him laugh harder. “I know. I know, you’re fine!”

“Stop it!” Alex doubled over, slapping his father’s hand away. “You’re going to burn breakfast.”

“Already burning!” another man called from inside, and Michael assumed it was another one of Alex’s brothers. “I’m just going to flip it!”

“Don’t you _dare_ , Gregory!” Jesse yelled, running back down the hall. “Each one of those is _perfect_ , if you mess up my streak, I _swear_ –”

Michael couldn’t begin to process what he was hearing from the men he’d seen kidnap and torture innocent people. It was as if he’d stepped into another dimension, but none of it mattered as Alex dusted off his pants. There was _no_ fantasy of Michael’s where he accidentally hurt Alex.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, pulling Alex in against him. Real or not, this Alex _felt_ real, and as Michael held him, he chuckled and gripped him back just as tightly.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay,” Alex smirked as he leaned back. “I’m not fragile, Guerin.”

Michael searched his face, and _knew_ , without knowing how he knew it, that something was wrong. Alex’s smile wasn’t reaching his eyes, and his fingers tightened on Michael’s sleeve, so slightly that if Michael didn’t know him as well as he did, he might’ve missed it. But Michael did, so he hadn’t.

He narrowed his eyes as he searched Alex’s face. “You . . . know, don’t you?”

Alex’s expression faltered. He shook his head. “Know?”

“This world . . . it’s _fake_ –”

“What’re you talking about? Stop it,” he chuckled, but he sounded more frightened than anything else. “That – that’s not funny.”

Michael held him tighter as he began to pull away. That was _not_ a normal response to what Michael just accused him of. Alex may not have been as awake as Michael was, but Michael was sure of one thing; this wasn’t just his fantasy. Alex was involved somehow, too.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into Alex’s hair, holding on tighter. “Don’t be scared. I’m here.” And he would figure this out on his own. If they needed saving, he would save them both.

“O-okay, come on,” Alex said, his voice light, taking Michael’s hand in his, and kissing his fingers. “Come on.”

Breakfast with the Manes men was a little more than excruciating. Jesse kept ruffling Alex’s hair, Flint kept teasing him, Gregory kept asking him how his music was going, and all of them laughed about Alex’s third brother Clark who had refused to get out of bed until noon. It was as if they’d been this close their entire lives, as if they’d never beaten Alex down with weapons and words.

But Alex was laughing so easily, his smile more and more genuine as they all talked and ate, Michael was finding it hard to lose control of his powers when the love of his life beside him had never seemed happier.

“I had the weirdest dream last night,” Flint said, waving a forkful of pancake. “I was in a plane, in skydiving gear, _naturally_ , but instead of being above the clouds, I was in _space_. And dad kept yelling me to jump!”

“Did you?” Alex smiled, amused.

“No!” Flint laughed. “I’m not listening to everything dad says!”

“You really shouldn’t,” Jesse said with a shrug. “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. It’s a miracle all of you still have your fingers, let’s put it that way.”

The boys all laughed except Michael, who flinched, and, to Michael’s surprise, _Alex_. He chuckled weakly, his hand reaching over to Michael’s left hand and kissing his fingers. Michael watched him.

“Sounds more like a nightmare to me,” Alex scoffed, his hand on Michael’s tightening, as if to make absolute sure Michael still had all of his fingers.

Flint looked as if the question itself was ridiculous. “ _No_ , dude! It was awesome. I never realized how much I wanted to skydive. Now, I do.”

“Oh that’s,” Jesse winced, “ _reassuring_.”

“You worry too much, dad,” Gregory said.

“Well,” Jesse shrugged, taking a sip of juice, “I mean, no, it’s good. You never really know how badly you want something unless you’ve experienced it, right?”

Michael blinked. “You . . . never know . . .”

“Hm?” Alex turned to him with a smile.

Michael searched his face, then looked to the others. “Of course . . . of _course_. . . .”

Alex’s family home, warm and inviting, his brothers, laughing and teasing, his _father_ , kind and supportive and an actual _dad_ instead of a war sergeant, and – _Michael_ , _here_. This was never Michael’s fantasy, it was _Alex’s_.

That’s when the memory returned. They had been fighting an alien in the bunker, one of the darker ones had snuck through the security, but it was okay. Alex had been prepared. He’d had a system ready to hijack any enemies that came to hurt them. But someone had caught hold of them first.

_“Let’s see if you can hurt me,” the alien had said with a smirk like fire, “deep in your dreams.”_

Michael and Alex had been on opposite ends of the bunker, Michael’s powers were weakened, he couldn’t get to Alex in time, and getting to Alex was all that mattered. And then they’d both fallen.

“That’s where we are now,” he whispered.

Alex was calling his name, even his family was asking if he was okay, but Michael couldn’t think of that. All he could think of was Alex.

Without warning, he grabbed the airman’s shoulders, pulling him out of his seat and slamming him against the wall.

“Whoa!”

“Hey!”

“I-is this a kink thing?”

Flint, Gregory, and Jesse stood at once, but Michael wasn’t looking at them. His eyes were on Alex, who looked shocked and afraid. Afraid of _Michael_.

“Wake up,” he demanded. “Alex, you _have_ to wake up.”

“Guerin,” he shook his head. “You’re – you’re freaking me out, please stop.”

“You’re Alex Manes,” Michael said, gripping him tighter. “ _Nothing_ freaks you out, nothing but losing me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m scared now –”

“So doesn’t that tell you something’s wrong?” Michael brought his hands up to hold Alex’s face. “Alex, we’re not here. None of this is real. We’re in the bunker –”

“Bunker? What bunker –”

“We got attacked, an alien is watching us _right now_ , planning something, and the fact that we _know_ something’s wrong means that we’re still alive. We have to wake up, _you_ have to wake up!”

“Michael,” Alex seemed to be trying for a calming voice, but as his eyes darted all over Michael’s face, Michael knew he was frightened. “Please, baby, listen to yourself. This isn’t a _dream_ , it’s real.”

“Should we call a doctor or something?” Flint asked.

“Michael,” Jesse said from somewhere to Michael’s left, “whatever’s going on, we’ll fix it. Let Alex go, you’re going to hurt him. Michael, let him go.”

Michael leaned into Alex, ignoring his family. “You _know_ the kind of person your father is.”

“Stop,” Alex whispered.

“You know who your brothers are –”

“Please stop –”

“You know what the Manes man legacy _really_ is –”

“Why are you doing this?” Alex cried, and Michael’s heart shattered at the way tears filled his airman’s eyes. But he had to do this. He _had_ to wake Alex up. “Why are you trying to hurt me? Can’t we just . . . please, let’s just sit back down.”

“Take a seat, Michael,” Jesse put his hand on Michael’s arm, and Michael flinched away from him, moving Alex with him. He wouldn’t let Jesse near Alex again.

“I’m doing this because you _know_ the truth,” Michael said, pressing his forehead roughly to Alex’s. “You know, and you don’t want to, and I _get_ it, Alex. I get not wanting to face it, but if anyone ever taught me to _fight_ , it’s you. If anyone’s strong enough to beat down all that evil, it’s _you_ –”

“I’m _tired_ of fighting,” he grit out, and Michael stilled. “I’m _happy_ , for the first time in . . . my _life_.”

“But it’s not real –”

“Real sucks,” Alex said, and as he spoke, Michael got the feeling it was more to himself than Michael. “Real hates me –”

“Real hates everyone –”

“No, you – you have a family. You have Isobel, and – and Max. You,” his voice cracked, “you have Maria. I have nobody. No friends, no family. Nothing. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

Michael searched his face, his grip unbearably tight. “A-Alex – Alex, please –”

“ _You_ wake up,” Alex whispered, his voice quiet, his eyes dark. “I’m done, Michael. I’m done.”

Michael woke with a gasp, the alarm in the bunker flashing red, the sound loud enough to pierce his skull. Before him stood the same alien man that had infiltrated the bunker, the one dressed in military uniforms. He was meant to look like Alex’s brother, Flint, but as he knelt over Alex’s sleeping form, Michael thought he looked more like a giant insect.

“Get away from him!” Michael choked out. Something was leaking from his forehead, his muscles were on fire, his bones like lead. But Alex was there, lying on the floor, his hair sticking to his face with blood, his body so still and his face so pale that Michael’s heart hammered painfully in his chest.

“Don’t worry,” Alien Flint said, running a finger down Alex’s face and holding it up to marvel at the blood. He licked his finger and hummed pleasantly. “He won’t feel anything soon.”

“Alex!” Michael tried pushing himself up to his knees. “ALEX, WAKE UP!”

The alien laughed. It sounded like broken machinery. “But why would he want to? I’ve given him his greatest fantasy. I’ve given him the gift of giving up.”

“Alex,” he winced as he stood. “Alex doesn’t give up.”

The alien’s grin widened, his teeth dark with blood. “That’s the thing that I’ve discovered about humans. They all need _rest_. And _this_ one,” he gently pushed back Alex’s bangs from his eyes, “this one’s never had _any_. It’s a mercy, really, letting him die like this. Finally, with some peace.”

Hot tears rolled down Michael’s cheeks as he took another step towards Alex and fell back down to his knees. “ _Don’t touch him_.”

Alien Flint shrugged. “He’ll be gone soon enough. As for _you_ . . .”

He held out his hand with a claw-like grip, and Michael gasped, his breath caught. He was choking, his face burning. He clutched at his throat, but try as he might, he couldn’t breathe. The tears fell more freely now, his eyes on Alex as he gasped for air.

He couldn’t see Alex anymore, his airman had disappeared, and Michael didn’t know if it was because Alex had somehow been moved, or because his own vision was darkening.

“You’re a traitor to your kind, Michael Guerin,” Alien Flint seethed. “If you can love a Manes, then you can die for one.”

Michael’s lungs were on fire, his breath gone completely. _Alex._ He just needed to see Alex one more time. Then –

“Ah!” Alien Flint froze, and Michael fell to the ground, gasping.

He heard writhing and screaming, and as his vision cleared, he saw the computer screens around the bunker had turned bright with symbols and coding, and Alien Flint was twitching as lines of blue electricity stretched along the floor and focused on him, like a tangle of spiderwebs aimed to kill.

“ _Don’t touch him_ ,” Michael heard, and turned his head to find Alex standing at the main computer, his hand on the console. His lip was cut, blood dripping down his chin, his face and hands were covered in bruises and cuts, his hair was tousled, and his dark eyes reflected the bright green, blue, and gold lights of the computer screen as he hit the alien with the most hateful glare to ever be cast. Michael thought he’d never looked more beautiful.

“You . . . stopped . . . fighting,” Alien Flint grit out.

Alex’s eyes fell to Michael, his finger hovering over a small blue switch. “I always fight.”

He flipped the switch, and the electric lines intensified, turning so bright that Michael had to look away. When he looked back, the alien had turned into a body of ash on the ground. Michael looked up just as Alex fell, exhausted, his eyes cold and numb on the corpse that once held his brother’s face.

“Alex,” he tried, but Alex didn’t react. Michael licked his lips, and tried again, “ _Alex_!”

Alex looked up then, his eyes unfocused. Michael slowly and painfully made his way over to him, reaching for him as soon as he was close enough.

Alex let Michael hold him tightly against his chest, the airman staring ahead, unseeing.

“Baby,” Michael whispered into his hair, his eyes shut tight as he ran his hands up and down Alex’s body, trying to take in whatever he could, to reassure himself Alex was here, in his arms, safe and alive.

But Alex didn’t react, didn’t speak, didn’t move. He just allowed himself to be held by Michael, as silent as if he were dead.


	141. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation to 140.

Michael’s body ached from being curled up on Alex’s front porch.

He probably should’ve gone home last night, but he couldn’t get Alex’s face out of his head after he’d saved them both yesterday; so numb, so lost. He’d followed Alex’s car when the airman had said he wanted to go home himself, and if the airman had any thoughts or feelings on seeing Michael’s truck in his driveway, he said nothing.

Michael had come to the front door, listening closely for any sign of distress, and when he’d heard none, he folded his arms tightly, pulling his jacket closer around himself, and scrunched his shoulders against the cold. He’d expected to return to his airstream after being assured that Alex was safe, but he couldn’t do it. And, if he was being honest, he didn’t _want_ to.

When he’d realized he’d accidentally left his cellphone at the bunker, he didn’t dare leave. What if Alex tried to call him in the time he was gone? What if his airman needed him?

_I have nobody. No friends, no family. Nothing._

Michael shut his eyes tight against the memory, at Alex’s cries in his head. All this time, he’d thought Alex was better off without him, that Alex was _happier_ without him. And all this time, he was suffering, all alone.

Michael was just huffing into his cupped hands when the door behind him opened, and he looked over his shoulder. Alex’s cuts were bandaged, his bruises having turned a deep purple. Michael had taken a bottle of acetone and his injuries were nearly gone. It didn’t seem fair, though Alex didn’t seem to mind at all as he looked the cowboy up and down, and smiled softly.

He sat down beside Michael, a thick folded blanket in his arms. “I had a feeling you’d still be here. When I saw your truck . . .” he trailed off with a sigh. He unfolded the blanket, and draped it over Michael’s shoulders. “I can take care of myself, Guerin.”

Michael stared. Alex didn’t seem upset or annoyed or angry, as Michael might’ve been. Instead, he was calm, his words soft. The blanket, he thought, was warmer than anything he’d ever felt in his life. He pulled it tighter around himself.

“Do they hurt?” he asked, nudging to Alex’s cuts with his chin.

“I’ve had worse,” Alex said. He shrugged. “Mostly, I’m just annoyed I passed out. Military training, right out the window.”

Michael raised a brow. “I don’t think they can prepare you for what to do if a crazy alien attacks.”

Alex smiled, amused. “That you know of.”

Michael began to smile, too, but even as he did so, his eyes burned and a lump formed in his throat. “How did I not know?” he said hoarsely.

Alex blinked. “Not know?”

“Everything . . .” he started, and at the look of incomprehension on Alex’s face, he faltered. “Your dream –”

“I don’t remember any of it,” Alex said. He tilted his head. “You do?”

When Michael couldn’t answer, Alex chuckled softly. “That bad, huh? Well?” he bumped Michael’s shoulder with his. “What was it that’s got you camping out in front of my door?”

Michael watched him, his shoulder tingling where Alex had touched it. For a moment, he considered lying, but this was _his_ Alex. Tough, and wise, and . . . Michael had to confess, he couldn’t take keeping what he’d seen to himself. And Alex was always the only one he could talk to.

“I . . . I was actually in _your_ fantasy.”

Alex raised a brow. “And what you saw startled you?”

Michael’s brows furrowed. “You’re not upset?”

“Why would I be? Let me guess; in my fantasy, we were together.”

“Yeah,” Michael breathed, relief coursing through him. So Alex _did_ know.

“And that was shocking?” Alex shrugged lightly. “My deepest desires; _of course_ , you were there.”

Michael couldn’t meet his eyes. “And your family?”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “My – my family?”

Michael told him everything that had happened, leaving out the explicit details of their morning together in bed, of the way Michael clung to him despite knowing they weren’t actually dating. The way Michael had kissed him as if he never wanted to let go.

When he was done, Alex was silent for a long moment. Then –

“Are you _laughing_?”

Alex shook his head, bringing his hand down from his mouth, laughter bubbling in his throat as he said, “I’m just trying to imagine my dad ever making _pancakes_. I wouldn’t take a glass of water from him –”

“It’s not funny, Alex,” Michael snapped, his heart racing as he thought of Alex’s tears, his wide, terrified eyes.

As Alex watched him, he seemed to sense Michael’s real distress, and his smile dimmed.

“You have to understand . . .” Alex shook his head, “that I’ve always felt that way. And I’ve _known_ that I’ve felt that way. It’s not like it’s something that happened because we met.”

He leaned in, his voice soft. “It’s not your fault, Guerin.”

Michael searched his face. “You wanted to give up, Alex.”

“ _Guerin_ –”

“I _watched_ you give up,” Michael said, and Alex turned silent. “I woke up thinking you weren’t going to. I woke up because _you_ made me. If – if you were going to die, I wanted to –”

“Michael, _stop_ ,” Alex took Michael’s face in his hands. “Stop.”

Michael clenched his jaw, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist, his face pressed against Alex’s collarbone. “I can’t lose you, Private. You . . .” _You’re everything to me_ , Michael wanted to say. _You’re my life. If you die, I die, too._

But as he opened his mouth, the words caught in his throat. He remembered Alex’s face the last time Michael had had a choice to make, and he’d chosen someone else. The way Alex’s eyes had fallen, as if disappointed but not surprised. He actually believed Michael could’ve loved anyone else, but what right did Michael have to tell him that wasn’t true, that it could _never_ be true? Why would Alex possibly believe him?

When Alex gently but firmly pulled Michael’s hands down from around his waist and leaned away from him, Michael knew his fears were right; Alex couldn’t believe he was Michael’s life force. He couldn’t believe that Michael still loved him.

As he stood, Alex grabbed Michael’s shoulder, avoiding his eyes. “I’m sorry I scared you. But everything’s fine now. You should get home, someone might be worried about you.”

Michael sat there, stunned. Alex had never, _never_ , pushed his hands away before. He’d never refused Michael’s touch.

Michael stood as Alex was about to close the door, the blanket clutched tightly in his hand. “You’re my first choice, Alex,” he said before he could help himself, and Alex stilled with his hand on the knob.

Michael stepped closer. “What do I have to do to make you believe that again?”

After a moment, Alex looked over his shoulder at the cowboy. He smiled sadly, as if Michael was a memory that shattered his heart but that he didn’t mind revisiting. “Guerin . . . I never believed that anyway.”

Michael must’ve looked as broken and shocked as he felt because Alex sighed before he stepped into the cowboy’s space, and gently cupped his jaw.

“Thank you for waking me up,” he whispered, and kissed Michael’s cheek. Michael’s eyes fluttered and he leaned into the kiss, chasing Alex’s lips with his own before realizing that Alex’s eyes had turned glassy, and the airman was quickly turning away from him to hide his face.

“I’m really glad you did,” was the last thing Alex said before he shut his door, and Michael fell into a – once again – deafening and treacherous silence.


	142. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation to 141.

_“And when you say my name,_

_Like white horses on the waves,_

_I think it feels the same,_

_As an ocean in my veins. . . .”_

Alex’s eyes opened to the wide blue sky, spotted here and there with white clouds. The breeze blew softly in the trees, the leaves rustling, the birds chirping.

Alex inhaled deeply, thinking of the last time he’d seen Michael, that morning. It had been so cold then, but the chill in Alex’s bones had melted away at the mere sight of the cowboy. Now, even the warmth of the kind spring afternoon couldn’t compare.

Still, the radio’s music played on, and Alex let the soft melody and even softer voice wash over him.

 _I don’t remember any of it_ , he’d told Michael. He shut his eyes as he slumped further down in his seat, his legs lay completely flat on the table before him, his fingers intertwined over his stomach. There was no point worrying about that dream now. He was awake, it was over.

Michael seemed to certainly agree as he’d left that morning and Alex had yet to hear from him. _Good_ , he thought, despite the slight clench of his heart. He’d done the right thing by sending Michael away, and while he certainly understood the cowboy’s concern for him, Alex was glad not to have to explain why or how he could break down like that, even in a fantasy.

How would he begin to tell Michael how he’d felt when he’d woken up? As if his deepest desires and feelings, everything he’d hidden away his entire life, everything he knew better than to confess, had been tapped into? How could he say that he’d woken up feeling drained and numb, because the Alex in his dreams wasn’t entirely him? It was Alex without self-control, without a _filter_ , without understanding or loyalty for those in his life. He knew what he’d wanted, and he’d been willing to take it without care as to who he might be hurting. And, more than anything, he wanted Michael.

He had to admit, though, he never thought Michael would sit through telling Alex his entire dream all over again. He expected a shrug, a hollow smirk, some teasing retort about sex, but Michael had seemed adamant on telling Alex everything that had happened.

 _Well_ , Alex thought, unable to help but blush. _Save for a few details._

He covered his face with his hands. _Shut up_ , he urged his brain. None of it mattered now.

Alex’s phone rang suddenly, and he looked down to find Kyle’s name flashing brightly. He sighed, putting Michael to the back of his mind. It was time to get back to work.

He swiped on the screen and held the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Kyle?”

*

Michael tapped his finger against his beer bottle.

 _“I don’t remember any of it.”_ He smirked. _What a liar._ Michael _knew_ Alex, and he knew when the airman wasn’t being honest. He remembered everything just fine, Michael was sure of it. And yet he’d asked Michael if he knew what had happened. Why? Had he expected Michael not to tell? And then they’d have to avoid talking about it altogether?

He thought of the way Alex’s expression had fallen when Michael had talked about his family, as if he’d been giving Michael an out, and was begging him to use it. Michael had been relentless though, desperate to understand for himself how Alex could fall to such a low point. How Michael had _allowed_ him to fall like that. The Alex he’d seen in that dream, Michael knew, was _not_ the Alex he knew.

That Alex was open and innocent, yes, but also frightened. Michael wasn’t an idiot to think Alex was never scared, but his airman had always seemed so able to push that fear aside and keep moving. So then . . . who had he been with in that fantasy?

Michael tilted his head back, downing the rest of his drink. Did it matter anymore? Alex had pulled away from him, had told him to leave. Alex had kissed Michael’s cheek in goodbye. And why? Because he actually thought that Michael could ever love anyone else.

Michael kept his eyes on the ceiling, even as someone slammed a glass on the bar. He could feel his girlfriend glaring.

“I’ve been calling you since last night,” she said. “Do you have any idea how _worried_ I’ve been?”

Michael slowly brought his gaze down, taking in Maria’s angry expression.

_“You have to understand . . . that I’ve always felt that way.”_

“Why are we dating?” he asked bluntly, and Maria looked startled at the question. Michael couldn’t find it in him to feel guilt or fear at losing Maria. He _knew_ what real fear felt like; real fear was when Isobel had vanished, when he thought he’d lost Max for good, when he thought Alex would never wake up again. _Real fear_ was Alex walking away from him and Michael thinking he might never see him again.

Maria raised a brow, as if she was on her final nerve tonight, and Michael was about to snap it. He didn’t care. “ _What_?”

“ _Why are we dating_?” Michael repeated with a shrug. “We’re both clearly just passing the time. Aren’t we?” Maria’s expression hardened, but Michael persisted. “ _Aren’t we_?”

She stared a moment longer, then said, “If this is your attempt to break up with me, Michael –”

“Is it a breakup if we were never actually together?” Michael asked. He’d been running the visit to Alex’s house over and over in his head. The way his airman had come out to sit with him, had firmly told Michael – even with the fear and distress evident in his own eyes and the way his fingers curled to fists on his lap ever so subtly – that he wasn’t to blame.

Alex was never the kind to sugarcoat anything, never the one you went to if you wanted good news, but _always_ the one to turn to when you wanted the _truth_. Alex didn’t make reassurances, he made _promises_.

“Is this about Alex?”

Michael sighed, getting to his feet. “Yeah. And no.”

Maria looked around her bar with pursed lips, nodding to herself as she made a show of cleaning out the glass she was holding, though Michael thought it was as clean as it was ever going to get.

“That’s where you were last night? And this morning? With Alex?”

Michael sighed. “Nothing happened,” he said softly, and Maria scoffed.

“I _know_ , Michael,” she said with an edge in her voice. “I trust him.”

_Him_ , she said. _Not_ you _, him_.

Michael thought that was fair enough. He also trusted Alex more than he did himself anyway. Without another word or look at Maria, Michael pushed his hat onto his head, and turned to leave.

*

Alex had fallen asleep in his living room, _again_. He was bent over his coffee table, the table itself, as well as the floor, strewn with files and documents and journal entries. He sat up, rubbing the fatigue from his eyes, his face stinging where the corners of the files had dug into his skin.

It took him a moment to realize that he hadn’t woken up on his own, but to the sound of knocking at his front door. With the thought that it must be Kyle who’d come to see him, Alex forced himself up to his feet with a groan, his leg aching all the more after having improperly fallen asleep on it.

He limped to the door and opened it to find Michael on his porch. Alex blinked.

“Guerin, hey – uh – what’re you doing here?”

The sky had turned pitch black, but as usual, Michael seemed luminescent, his curls and honey eyes glowing all the brighter, as if determined to make up for the darkness surrounding him. Alex, as usual, just barely resisted the urge to reach out and touch.

Michael walked into the cabin past Alex, in lieu of greeting him back. He looked around, taking in the small living room before he turned back to Alex, nudging his chin at the airman’s leg. “Your limp was worse this morning.”

“I – what?”

“And your car was making a weird noise on the drive back.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “Are you drunk?” Michael shook his head, looking everywhere but Alex’s eyes. Alex stared a moment, then his shoulders sagged. _Oh no._ “What happened?”

“That entire time, I thought we’d been stuck in _my_ fantasy,” Michael said. “ _That’s_ what happened.”

Alex stilled. Michael’s words were rushed, as if desperate to get them out before they refused to come out at all.

“I woke up in that bed, and I . . .” Michael shook his head, “I kissed you, and . . . I didn’t want to be anywhere else.” He scoffed, his smirk miserable. “Hell, even when I _knew_ something was wrong, I didn’t care. I thought . . . _just a little longer with him_ . . . _and_ then _, I’ll figure it out_. I didn’t know it was your dream until the very last second.”

Alex stared, his eyes burning. Michael’s own breathing seemed shallow and faster than normal.

“So,” Michael finally met his gaze, and huffed, “ _so_ , I’m coming back tomorrow to fix your stupid engine, okay? You’re not going to the base, you’re not going to the bunker – you’re staying here, and for once in your life, you’re going to rest, because _I said so_. You got that, Private?”

Alex said nothing, even as Michael closed the distance between them. From here, Alex could catch his scent, and was only half-surprised to note that the cowboy didn’t reek the least bit of alcohol.

Michael’s eyes bore into him, his hands twitching at his sides as if he ached just as badly as Alex did to reach up and touch the man before him.

Alex looked away, but nodded. Michael moved past him to the door, but before he was too far away, Alex reached out and took his wrist. He didn’t turn to the look at the cowboy as he felt him go still behind him.

Alex slid his hand from Michael’s wrist down to his hand, gripping his fingers tightly. He wasn’t dreaming, he _knew_ he wasn’t, and _yet_. . . . If he let go of Michael now, would the cowboy disappear? Or would he really come back?

As if hearing his thoughts, perhaps carrying the same fears, Michael gripped his hand back just as tightly. A tear rolled down Alex’s cheek despite himself, and slowly, letting his thumb gently caress the back of Michael’s hand, Alex let go.

Michael left immediately, but Alex did not dare move until he heard the front door close. Alex all but fell onto his couch, his hand over his racing heart.


	143. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isobel and Max are desperate to get rid of Michael's goatee.

“It’s hideous!”

Michael rolled his eyes. “I’m just trying something new.”

“Oh _gag_!” Isobel grimaced. “Look, little brother, you’re very handsome _when you choose to be_. Why are you choosing _not_ to be?”

“Don’t you think you’re making too big a deal out of this?”

“I think you’re not making a big _enough_ deal out of it. It’s a fashion fiasco, Michael!” She narrowed her eyes. “Alex hasn’t seen it yet, has he?”

Michael ignored his sister in favor of levitating a wrench into his open, waiting hand. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Isobel shrugged a shoulder. “You usually do what he says, and there’s _no_ way he’s seen that and told you to keep it.”

Michael frowned. “I don’t do whatever he tells me.” Isobel raised a very unimpressed eyebrow at him, and he blushed. “Whatever, I haven’t seen him in a week, so I wouldn’t know his opinion anyway.”

“Why?” Isobel asked. “Where’s he been?”

“They’ve had him at the base,” Michael said, quieter. “He gets back really late, and in pain, and . . . since we don’t live together or anything –”

“Oh so that’s what this is,” Isobel pointed at Michael’s facial hair. “ _Alex withdrawal_.”

“That’s –” Michael huffed. “Look, the goatee stays, okay?”

Isobel’s frown deepened. “But it’s _awful_.”

“It’ll grow back in a week or two.”

Isobel regarded him a moment from where she sat on the lawn chair, one leg crossed over the other, her sunglasses perched on the top of her head as she sat sunbathing. For a second, Michael thought she would let it go, but then she leaned back in her chair, putting her sunglasses back down.

“He’s not going to like it,” she said in a singsong voice, and Michael just barely refrained throwing his long-abandoned and sweaty shirt at her.

Not too long later, Michael heard tires on the dirt road and looked up to see Max coming into the driveway. He was about to look back down, but then noticed that Max wasn’t alone. He was talking and laughing with someone in the passenger’s seat.

“Speak of the devil,” Isobel said with a smirk, and Michael straightened.

“Alex!” Isobel jumped into his arms as soon as he stepped out of the car. Alex was still in uniform, but his hair was ruffled as if he’d spent the past half-hour running a hand through it, and despite his leg, he easily picked Isobel up and spun her around once.

Almost as soon as he set her back on the ground, she said, “Tell him to get rid of it.”

“What?” Alex blinked, and his eyes fell on Michael. He smiled with a slight furrow in his brows, and Michael felt his heart stutter in his chest. He didn’t know if he was allowed to hold Alex as easily as Isobel was.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you,” Michael said with the air of someone whose heart _wasn’t_ hammering in his chest, “but _why_ is Max bringing you?”

“I gave him a lift to the base this morning,” Max said. “By the way, his car needs a tow.”

When Michael looked to Alex for an explanation, the airman shrugged. “I stopped by the sheriff department to see Michelle, and found Max there. When I tried to leave, my car wouldn’t start.”

Michael’s brows furrowed. “Yeah?”

“The circuits blew, or something,” Alex said.

“Did they?” Michael’s eyes flitted to Max and Isobel, both of whom seemed to be much more interested in staring at the ground or Alex’s profile than meeting Michael’s eyes. “And now you get to be here. To see my goatee. And talk me out of it. Look how that worked out.”

“Talk you out of it?” Alex asked, as if he hadn’t noticed the goatee the second he’d seen Michael. But as Alex glanced at Michael’s chest, damp with sweat now, Michael had a slight smug moment, his heart soaring. So _that_ was why Alex had only just noticed the facial hair.

Michael had the urge right then to ignore his siblings, take Alex by the arm, and drag him into the airstream. Only, he wasn’t Alex’s boyfriend. They made out, they slept together, but nothing was official. Would he be allowed to do such a thing? Alex was probably exhausted, the only reason he was even here today was because Max and Isobel had planned it, would he even _want_ to be touched now?

“Isobel and Max want me to shave,” Michael explained.

Alex raised a brow at Max. “You guys had me picked up from base so that I could tell Michael to _shave his goatee_?”

Without looking the least bit guilty, Isobel said, “It’s your fault he has it. _That_ ,” she pointed at Michael’s face, “is what happens when he doesn’t see you. Fix it.”

Alex raised a brow, and Michael turned back to the engine he’d been working on. He tried to pretend that what Alex thought of his goatee didn’t matter, though he didn’t really get anything done with the car as he waited for the airman to speak. Then –

“I’m not going to tell him to shave,” Alex said, sounding bewildered.

Isobel frowned. “You – you’re not?”

Alex barked a laugh, surprised. “ _No_! That’s none of _my_ business!”

Michael faltered. None of his business? Did he mean he had no right to tell Michael to shave because they weren’t a real couple? Because he wasn’t Michael’s boyfriend and had no say in it? He pursed his lips, gripping the wrench tighter, keeping his face hidden behind the car hood.

“I knew it,” Max said grimly. “Love has blinded him. We need someone who’ll be needlessly mean. Rosa? Maria? I know Valenti would love to take a stab at him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Isobel said irritably, as if Michael wasn’t right there. “He doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. It _has_ to be Alex. Please,” she looked to Alex, clutching his shoulder, “isn’t there anything you can do?”

She spoke like a family member, begging a doctor to save his patient from dying. Michael tossed the rag he’d had in his other hand, about to tell Isobel to give it up already when he noticed Alex had been watching him very intently.

Alex searched his face, and finally tilted his head. “Let me try something.”

Before any of them could ask what he meant, Alex closed the distance between himself and Michael, took the cowboy’s face in his hands, and crashed their lips together.

Michael made a startled noise in the back of the throat before he quickly melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist, pulling him in against his naked chest. Alex moaned so quietly that Michael was sure no one else had heard him, and he held him tighter. He had no idea how much he’d missed the airman until he felt Alex’s chest against his own, his hands on his jaw, his lips against Michael’s. Alex seemed to miss him just as badly as he kept one hand on Michael’s face, the other coming around his shoulders, pulling him in closer.

Michael was ready to push Alex against the car’s hood, to grind against him even with Max and Isobel here. He didn’t care, he’d been away from Alex too long, all the while feeling like a man drowning and not realizing it. He’d finally come up for air, and he wasn’t going to let go. But then –

Alex pulled away, unable to move far as Michael had his arms around his waist, his brows furrowed. “That,” he breathed, “that feels weird.”

Michael was still staring at Alex’s lips, panting, “What?”

Alex pouted slightly, his thumbs gently caressing Michael’s jaw as if he’d just realized the area was shaved.

“Maybe because I’m so used to your stubble?” Alex said. “Either that, or you’re always shaved. It feels different now.”

“ _Bad_ different, right?” Isobel asked from somewhere in the background, and Michael could swear he heard the smirk in her voice, but he didn’t care. Alex had been kissing him and then he’d stopped, and Michael wanted him back again.

Alex shrugged, smiling amusedly as he traced Michael’s bottom lip with his finger. “Just not the Guerin I’m used to.”

And there was so much adoration and fondness and light in his eyes as he searched Michael’s face that Michael believed the _Guerin Alex was used to_ was someone the airman loved very much.

“What’re you doing?” he breathed as he chased Alex’s lips. “Come on, kiss me.”

Alex laughed harder as Michael pulled him in deeper. “It feels weird!”

Michael panted heavily against Alex’s jaw a moment, then he let his lips fall to Alex’s neck, and he mumbled against the soft skin, “Okay, give – give me a second.”

And without another word, he unwrapped his arms from around Alex and ran into his airstream. He was sure he’d never shaved so fast.

His face was still wet when he came rushing out and grabbed Alex by the waist again, crashing their lips together. Alex moaned instantly, his hands coming up to hold Michael’s face.

When they needed to pull back to breathe, their foreheads pressed tightly together, Michael barely registered that Max and Isobel were grinning, undoubtedly proud of themselves for getting Michael to do what they wanted. But Michael had Alex in his arms, he didn’t care about anything else.

“Alex withdrawal,” Max sighed.

“Truly terrifying,” Isobel agreed.


	144. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael had never seen Alex hungry.

Michael had never seen Alex hungry. That was something you didn’t really realize was a thing until you saw it in front of you, but there you have it. Michael had never seen Alex truly hungry, so as he watched the airman slide into the booth across from him at the Crashdown, and shove a handful of fries into his mouth, two thoughts came to Michael at once.

The first was that Alex had no business being so cute with his cheeks stuffed. The second –

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” he asked.

Alex’s eyes fluttered shut as he closed his mouth around the straw of his milkshake, moaning softly. Michael leaned back in his seat, looking around to see if anyone else had heard him, if anyone else seemed to be lit on fire from the inside. But no, just Michael. Maybe he just had some kind of super-hearing where Alex was concerned.

“I don’t even remember,” Alex mumbled as he pulled back, having finished half of the milkshake in big gulps. “Thanks for ordering for me.”

“Uh yeah, I . . . you know . . . thought you . . . might be . . . s-sorry, can you just – _stop_ for a second?” Michael may not have intended to say it so harshly, but when Alex stopped eating, a fry caught between his now salted, red lips, Michael thought it was his timing that had been the worst of it.

Alex pushed the rest of the fry into his mouth, his face red as he took the milkshake in hand and leaned back in the booth. “Everything I gathered on the latest Project Shepherd bunkers has been moved _here_ ,” he said as he pulled out a flash drive from his pocket.

He tossed it, and Michael caught it without taking his eyes off Alex’s face. “How long did this take you?”

Alex shrugged, reaching for another fry. “I put a few hours at night.”

“This couldn’t have taken you a few hours.”

Alex huffed a chuckle, nearly choked on his food, and gulped down his milkshake. He peeked open a teary eye at Michael and said, “A few hours _every_ night.”

“For how long?”

“I dunno, a few months, are you going to finish that?” he asked, pointing at Michael’s untouched burger.

Michael, startled, shook his head. Alex dug into the burger and finished it in four bites. Michael watched as Alex’s mouth closed around each of his fingers afterward, his eyes shut, his cheeks flushed and his lips red. Michael cleared his throat, and looked away. Who turned up the heating in here?

He ran a hand over his face. “Alex, you’ve been up for _months_ working on this? What about work?”

“What about it?” he said offhandedly.

Michael stared. “Private . . . _tell_ me you’ve slept in the last few weeks.”

Alex hummed, as if considering the question. “I – well, I – I’m pretty sure I did. I would’ve _had_ to at some point, right? Otherwise I’d be dead, but I – no, yeah, I did, I think.”

A pause.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Guerin, it’s fine, I’m fine,” Alex said, nudging at the flash drive in Michael’s hand with his chin as he swirled his straw around his milkshake. “What matters is that now we have access to all of the bunker information, _not_ crypted, so now we can get to work on those.”

“I – _we_? There’s no _‘we,’_ Private, _I’m_ doing this part on my own, _you_ can take a break.”

Alex stared at him a moment. Michael wished he would stop sucking on that straw, or he was going to stand up and –

“Okay.”

Michael’s brows rose. “ _Okay_? That’s it? It’s that easy.”

“I’m exhausted,” Alex sighed. “I think I’m going to take this time to really focus on myself, maybe get a massage –” Michael’s shoulders sagged, “I’ve always wanted to get into juicing, heard that’s a thing –”

“Hilarious,” Michael said dryly.

Alex laughed. “Do you hear yourself? I’m _fine_.”

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Michael defended.

“I’m an _Air Force Captain_ , Guerin, I’ve gone without sleep before – see, _this_ is _exactly_ why I’m so hesitant to see you now, you don’t have _any_ faith in me, even though I’ve more than proved myself capable to you time and time again.”

Alex leaned forward, looking more awake than Michael had ever seen him, and despite his smile, his eyes cut like ice. “We’re in this together. Every step of the way. Don’t insult me again by implying that I can’t handle it. The things I’ve done would scare even you, Guerin.”

He leaned back, his eyes softening. “I can take a few sleepless nights. You know I can.”

Michael searched his face, trying not to seem affected by the airman’s words. He often wondered of the things Alex had done in the military, the kind of life he had, the life he still had being an Air Force Captain with a father like Jesse Manes. Michael may only have caught glimpses of Alex’s nightmares in his eyes, but it was enough to scare _anyone_. Michael didn’t doubt that.

Looking away, Michael signaled over a waiter. “Can I get another burger and milkshake? Thanks.” When the waiter was gone, Michael crossed his arms over the table, and looked to Alex who was staring back at him, surprised. “Eat up, Private. We’ve got work to do.”


	145. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The deleted 2x10 Malex scene that was STOLEN from us.

“I mean, seriously – Alex or Maria?”

Michael blinked, looking over his shoulder at the Manes man behind him as he closed the door. “ _What_?”

Gregory raised a brow, hands in his pockets as he led the way back to the trade post. “Alex or Maria? I thought you were Alex’s . . . well, I thought you were with Alex, but you and him keep separating, and Maria’s always around, so –”

“This is your business, how?” Michael cut him off wearily. He might’ve been less on edge, he knew, if they hadn’t stopped by the Crashdown that morning, if he hadn’t seen Alex smile and blush around that blue-haired Nazi boyfriend-stealing prick. And it wasn’t like that had been where his unwanted thoughts of Alex had started, but Alex’s _brother_ definitely didn’t need to know that.

Gregory, however, seemed as unaffected by Michael’s tone as Alex might’ve been. He shrugged, his lips quirked up in half a smile. “I care about my brother. I see the way he looks at you, and the way you look at him, when you think he’s not paying attention. Except, there’s one thing you clearly don’t understand.”

Michael plastered a smirk on his lips. “And that would be?”

“Alex pays attention to everything,” he said, and Michael’s expression faltered. It must’ve been what Gregory was expecting because he huffed a chuckle, shaking his head. “Don’t blame yourself. It comes with the job.”

Michael scoffed, his jaw clenched tightly despite himself. _Damn military._

“Look, your personal life is your personal life, do with it what you please –”

“Wasn’t really waiting for your permission, Manes –”

“But Alex is _my_ brother,” Gregory said. “He’s . . . he’s been through a lot. He doesn’t need any more disappointments.”

Michael pursed his lips as Gregory went on ahead of him. He wanted to hiss out some retort about the irony of a _Manes_ worrying about Alex being disappointed, but Gregory’s stance was calm, his dark eyes kind. They were too familiar, reminded Michael too much of another Manes man for him to mean any harsh words that left his lips.

Michael sniffed, tilting his head down to hide his eyes as he followed Gregory. The rest of their walk to the trade post was left in silence, and almost as soon as they stepped inside, Gregory went to Alex’s side, looking over his shoulder at the bracelets he was standing in front of.

Michael realized he’d been walking towards Alex himself, but at the sound of Maria’s voice, he stopped.

“Hey,” she smiled, a necklace in hand as she stood on the other side of the store. “Checking in on me?”

Michael noticed that Alex had barely looked up at him, and he swallowed, forcing a smile to his lips as he came to stand beside her. He glanced over his shoulder at Alex, and cleared his throat, subtly tucking in his elbows, keeping his distance from Maria.

“How’s the search?”

“Long,” she sighed. “Alex has been helping me look for the same symbol.”

“And failing,” Alex said, setting the bracelet down. “I’m going to go check in the back.”

Michael watched as Gregory muttered something quietly to his brother. Alex’s gaze fell slightly, but he nodded, and Gregory clasped his shoulder before turning towards the door.

Michael touched Maria’s arm before following Alex into the back. He stilled near the doorway as he watched Alex pull out his phone, check his screen, and pocket it again with a sigh.

Michael took his hat off, smirking humorlessly. “Waiting on a call?”

Alex didn’t look up as he examined the collection of amulets. Michael was reminded of what Gregory had told him; that Alex was always paying attention.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Oh. Okay, then, my radar must’ve been _way_ off this morning. With – uh – _Forrest_.”

Alex looked up then, though the rest of his expression didn’t change.

“ _Was_ I off, Private?”

Alex returned his attention back to the amulets. “We don’t have to talk about this.”

Michael stared. So it _was_ true. Alex and Forrest _did_ have a thing. Alex actually . . . liked someone else. Michael quietly inhaled and exhaled deeply.

“He likes you.” Alex scoffed, shaking his head. But he didn’t answer. Michael watched him. “And . . . you like him. Well, that’s . . . great. _Forrest_? Seriously?”

“Jealous?” Alex said. “ _Seriously_?”

“I’m not . . .” he trailed off at Alex’s raised brow. Joking around Alex, he could do. Dismissing what they’d done, he was a pro. But lying to his face? Michael hated how impossible it always seemed to be, no matter who he was with.

Michael sighed. “I’m just worried. You don’t even know this guy, _we_ don’t even know him.”

“Guerin, I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“He could be a danger to us. We –”

“ _Michael_ ,” he huffed a chuckle, “there is no _‘we.’_ There’s just me and Forrest, and for your information, _I_ ran into _him_.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he worked really hard to make sure you’d be at the Crashdown, wouldn’t want that effort to go to waste.”

“How could he have possibly known we would stop by the Crashdown?” Alex asked wearily. “That _I_ would be the one to get out of the car? That _I_ would call him and ask him out?”

Michael stilled. “You – you asked him out?”

“Just help us look for this stupid signal so we can go, okay?”

“ _Oh_ ,” Michael huffed incredulously. “Have I struck a nerve?”

“Guerin, I’m serious, leave it alone.”

“What’s bothering you, exactly?” Michael asked, stepping closer. “That the Nazi conspiracist isn’t as perfect as you think he is? That he could be playing you? That he never actually liked _you_?”

As soon as Michael said the words, he regretted them. Alex’s eyes remained on him, his lips pursed slightly.

“Feel better now?” he asked quietly. “Got it all out? Or is there more?”

“Alex, I . . . I – I’m sorry –”

“You know I’m on your side, right?” Alex said, letting the amulets he was looking at go, and making his way towards the door. “You can ease up, every now and then.”

“Alex,” he tried again, but Alex had already left. Michael clenched his fists. If he knew Alex, and he _did_ , he knew it would be a mistake to follow him now. Later on, he and Alex would see each other again, and he’d smile, and everything would be fine. Because Alex never stayed angry with him.

Michael started to fear the moment Alex would stop thinking him worth the trouble.


	146. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Alex's birthday.

Michael didn’t realize how badly he’d needed to see Alex until the airman walked through the door.

It had been a less-than-thrilling day, between his work at the junkyard and working hours on end at the lab just to run into more dead ends, his nerves had all nearly snapped, and his energy levels were on the floor. He’d known he needed a drink, though it did little to completely satisfy him.

Now, as Alex made his way towards the bar, dusting the fallen snow off his jacket, Michael realized why.

“Private,” Michael smirked, holding his glass up, “care to join me?”

Alex didn’t seem at all surprised to see Michael already drunk, but Michael felt his heart doing cartwheels in his chest at the airman’s appearance. Alex’s hair was windswept, his cheeks rosy, his eyes roaming the bar for someone. Michael wished Alex would just settle his gaze on _him_.

Michael raised a brow. “Alex, you –”

“Have you seen Forrest?” Alex breathed, running a hand through his hair. Michael’s grin fell. “We were supposed to – hey!”

“I’ve been waiting for you!” Forrest appeared from the end of the bar, pulling Alex in for a quick hug, grinning widely. “I’ve been here for _hours_!”

“I know, I know,” Alex said, laughing as Forrest dusted the snow from his hair and shoulders. “Sorry, I got caught up at the base, and my team had this surprise thing for me –”

“ _Alex_ ,” Forrest said, taking Alex’s face in his hands and squishing his cheeks together. “I was _joking_.”

Alex bit his lower lip as he seemed to be trying to keep his grin from widening. As Forrest leaned in to kiss his cheek, Alex’s eyes closed, and his face turned ever redder. Michael’s hand tightened on his glass.

“Come on, the others are waiting.”

“ _Others_?” Michael raised a brow, unable to help himself.

“Oh,” Forrest blinked as if having just noticed that Michael was there. “Hey, Guerin, you want to join us? We – uh – we can pull up an extra chair. It’s a pretty special occasion after all.”

“It’s really not,” Alex said.

Forrest rolled his eyes. “Would you just – _Guerin_ , would you please tell him it’s a special occasion?”

At the way Michael’s smile dimmed, his brows furrowing together slightly, Forrest seemed to realize that the cowboy had no idea what he was talking about. Forrest looked to Alex, as if asking what he should do next, and Alex shrugged, giving a small smile.

“It’s my birthday,” Alex said. “Forrest had this small dinner planned.” He gestured with his chin to a small table in the corner where Cam, Rosa, Isobel, and Kyle were seated, laughing together about something.

Michael, however, was staring at Alex, frowning. “I didn’t know it was your birthday.”

Alex and Forrest seemed to share a quick look, and Forrest touched his arm before returning to the table by himself. Alex came to sit beside Michael.

“I usually forget myself,” Alex said, stretching his arms high above his head, “but I guess I mentioned the date once to Forrest, and,” Alex’s smile turned fond, “he memorized it.” He put his hand on Michael’s arm. “Come join us, I really want you to.”

Michael smirked, pulling his arm out from under Alex’s touch, though he instantly missed the warmth. “While I’d love nothing more than to sit across from you and your new boyfriend making heart eyes at each other –”

“Just today,” Alex cut him off with a sigh, “Just today, can you not . . . be the macho cowboy? Please just come celebrate with us.”

Michael pursed his lips, searching Alex’s face. He wanted to say yes. He so desperately wanted to say _yes_ , to spend Alex’s birthday at his side, but . . . the idea of trying to sit with Alex and Forrest _together_ , with Forrest’s arm around Alex’s shoulders, his lips curled in a loving smile as he watched the airman, once _Michael’s_ airman – it drove Michael nearly insane. He had to get out of here before he caused an earthquake.

Alex seemed to realize Michael’s answer before he even said it because as Michael stood, grabbing his hat, Alex didn’t look surprised or confused, only resigned.

“Let me make one thing clear, Private,” he said, and Alex looked up, meeting his eyes, unafraid as always. Michael leaned in. “I’d rather die than see you with someone else. I can’t accept it, and I’m not going to try.”

When Michael moved away, Alex remained staring at the place where the cowboy had stood. “You do realize how unfair that is?” he said calmly, not the slightest trace of anger or resentment in his eyes. Always the one to understand Michael better than anyone else. Always _his_ Alex.

Michael paused, gently moving Alex’s bangs back from his eyes. For a second, Alex’s eyes fluttered, and he ever so slightly leaned into the touch, but then he met Michael’s eyes again, and Michael knew he wouldn’t budge. Alex wouldn’t follow him out, wouldn’t let Michael take his hand, or close the distance between them now. Not anymore.

He clenched his jaw, pressing his lips against the shell of Alex’s ear. “Happy birthday, baby,” he whispered before he walked away without another glance.


	147. Malex & Forlex & Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle has to approve of Forrest.

“So where’s the babe taking us?” Kyle asked, glancing over his phone as Alex came into the room, tugging his sweater down.

Kyle’s eyes followed the sliver of naked skin between the hem of Alex’s sweater and jeans before it was gone, and his eyes fell back to his phone.

“Nowhere special,” Alex chuckled. “Just the Crashdown.”

“Exciting stuff,” Kyle said, and Alex, who had gone to stand in front of the mirror to try to flatten the wild strands of his hair (it wouldn’t work, and Kyle knew it), raised an eyebrow at him in the mirror’s reflection.

“You know you don’t _have_ to come, right?”

Kyle scoffed, rolling over on his back, dropping a couch cushion onto the rug. “Well, _that’s_ nice. After I so kindly offered to come along –”

“Demanded,” Alex said. “I’m pretty sure the word is ‘demanded.’”

“So kindly _offered_ to come along,” Kyle said a bit louder, ignoring him, “to – I don’t know – finally meet your boyfriend, to _look out for you_ , as all best friends should do, you treat me like some third wheel. You know, I have other things I could be doing with my nights.”

Alex laughed. “I’m just saying, you’ve been moping on the couch all day.”

“What, I’m not as thrilled at the prospect of watching you and Forrest make heart eyes at each other all night as you’d expected? Gee, I wonder why.”

“And if you don’t want to come –”

Kyle looked up at him from where he lay. “What gave you that idea?”

Alex shook his head, smiling. Kyle blushed and lay back down, clearing his throat as he held up his phone again.

When the knock at the door came, Kyle stood and Alex pointed at him, warning, “If you say anything –”

“I’ll be the perfect gentleman,” Kyle said with his best smile, snapped a picture of Alex on his phone, and at the airman’s raised brow, shrugged. “What? I’m making memories here.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his lips. When he opened the door, Forrest was on the other side, a large bouquet in his arms.

Kyle leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. He searched Forrest’s face for any malintent, any indication that he was someone who wanted to be with Alex just because he needed him for something, but all he could see was love and admiration. Forrest _knew_ he was lucky to have Alex, something Alex’s previous love interest severely took for granted.

_Okay, Blue Hair_ , Kyle thought. _You win this round._

Alex smiled down at the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Nope,” Forrest said, kissing Alex’s cheek as he walked past him into the house. He stopped in front of Kyle. “They’re for _you_.”

Kyle blinked, slowly taking the flowers. “Me?”

“You’re the best friend, right?” Forrest said. “You’re the one I’m supposed to impress?”

Alex’s smile widened. “No, Forrest, you’re not supposed to –”

“ _Yes_ ,” Kyle cut him off, hugging the flowers to his chest, his chin raised defiantly. “I _am_. Let’s go, Alex’s Boyfriend. The Crashdown, was it?”

“Kyle, he has a name,” Alex said gently, and Kyle looked over his shoulder at a very amused, yet very silent Forrest.

“He’ll get a name when I decide he’s worthy of one.”

“Are you channeling your inner Rosa or something?”

Kyle scoffed. “That’s _exactly_ what I’m doing. Rosa’s my sister, by the way,” he said to Forrest who was looking from Alex to Kyle inquiringly, “and she’d _kick_ your ass if she was here. Be grateful that I’m a doctor. Now. Let’s go. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can be done.”

On his way out, Kyle heard Alex brightly tell Forrest, “I think he likes you.”

Dating was hard. Kyle would be the first to admit that. He’d thought accompanying Alex and Forrest would feel like homework, a man’s duty to his best friend. He’d thought it would be awkward and he would be ignored or left alone most of the time, but the longer he and the couple sat together, the more he realized that he was actually having fun.

Alex was not normally a publicly romantic person, doing no more than blushing whenever Forrest said a kind word (and with such ease), and Forrest seemed to need nothing more than to reach across the table and take Alex’s hand every once in a while, as if to reassure himself that the airman was there and _his_. Aside from that, Kyle never felt as if they were _forced_ to have him along, but as if they’d needed a night out with a friend, and Kyle had been their choice.

Alex paid him the same amount of attention he always did, and Kyle felt himself checking Forrest to see his reactions. Unlike a certain cowboy, Forrest never once looked jealous or angry or annoyed that Alex had a friend. Instead, every time Alex looked away from him, Kyle caught Forrest staring at Alex fondly as he spoke, his eyes roaming over Alex’s eyes, cheeks, his lips. He seemed content to just _watch_ Alex all day.

_Round Two_ , Kyle thought. Well played, indeed.

Kyle had been enjoying himself, really, so when Michael walked into the diner, and took a seat at the counter, Kyle tensed. For a second, he thought that maybe Michael hadn’t seen them, but as the cowboy sat down, he glanced over his shoulder, right at Alex, taking off his black hat and setting it beside him.

Kyle’s shoulders sagged. He was willing to bet that the only reason Michael had come in was because he’d seen Alex in the window. Alex and Forrest, thankfully, had been so immersed in conversation, laughing together, that neither had noticed Michael come in.

_Maybe he won’t come over_ , Kyle thought hopefully. He’d probably just sit there with his back to them, doing his best to stay hidden and watch Alex from afar, and Alex wouldn’t even notice him until they got up to leave. Then Michael pushed himself off the stool, and Kyle stood.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he said, making his voice seem casual as he slipped out of the booth. He made his way towards Michael, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Alex hadn’t seen him, and blocked Michael’s path before he could take another step.

“Don’t even think about it, Guerin,” Kyle said under his breath.

Michael smirked humorlessly. “Out of my way, Valenti.”

He tried to step around Kyle, but Kyle blocked his path again. “He’s having _fun_ , if you go over there now, you’ll just ruin that.”

Michael poked his cheek with his tongue, looking thoroughly _done_ with anything and anyone that was going to keep him from Alex. It was only now that Kyle realized Michael was more on edge than usual, and wondered what had happened that had made Michael want to seek Alex out. Then he wondered if maybe Michael had planned to go see Alex tonight, then caught him in the Crashdown window and came in here instead.

Then Kyle glanced over his shoulder and saw Alex laughing, his cheeks red and his hands in Forrest’s, and he realized none of that mattered because Alex was finally enjoying himself, _finally_ smiling and _meaning_ it. Kyle remembered too well all the times Alex had sacrificed his own mind and heart for Michael. Always whatever Michael wanted, always Michael first.

“Alex is gonna wanna see me,” Michael said, and began to push past Kyle again.

“Yeah,” Kyle muttered, “yeah, he will.” He grabbed Michael’s arm and pulled him back. “But he deserves better than that.”

Michael’s false smile fell away as he looked down at Kyle’s hand on him. When he looked up again, Kyle knew there would be an earthquake following.

“He’s _happy_ ,” Kyle said. “He’ll see you tomorrow, for now, just give him this.”

“Valenti,” Michael grit his teeth, “I _swear_ –”

“How much more do you need from him before you give him a break?” Kyle hissed, and Michael turned silent. “Guerin, _he deserves better_.”

“So what?” Michael said, trying for a smirk but not quite managing it. “Give him space? Stay away from him? You’re gonna give me that speech? I’m not giving Alex up –”

“I’m not telling you to give Alex up,” Kyle said, straining now to keep his voice down. “Honestly? I don’t think you _can_. I’m not even asking you to give him space. Just give him _tonight_. Give him a few more hours to be Alex before he has to be Captain Manes again.”

Michael clenched his jaw so tightly Kyle was sure he would break it. His eyes were on Alex, glimmering as they always seemed to do when he was watching the airman, whatever he was feeling. For a moment, his muscles tensed beneath Kyle’s fingers, and Kyle feared he would pay for getting involved with an alien’s feelings soon.

Then Michael yanked his arm free from Kyle’s grip, and, with a final look at Alex, turned around and stormed out.

Kyle took a moment to steady his breathing before he returned to Alex and Forrest, sliding in next to his friend.

“You okay?” Alex asked. “You look pale.”

Kyle’s heart was racing. The truth was he really did think Michael had been about to lose control, and Kyle had no idea what he would’ve done if that happened. He’d never seen Michael so angry, and not seeing Alex was probably only going to put some other piece of land at risk. Hopefully, it was somewhere Michael could cause earthquakes to his heart’s content _without_ getting caught.

“Yeah,” Kyle said, forcing his voice to sound brighter. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Alex clearly didn’t believe him, but he must’ve seen something in Kyle’s expression to know that any questions or further inquiries right now would not be well-received.

He nodded, as if to say he would drop the subject for now, and said he needed to go to the bathroom himself. Kyle let him out and sat back down to find that Forrest was looking out the window, his expression dimmed.

“Thank you,” Forrest said, and Kyle blinked.

“For what?”

Forrest sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked as tired as Kyle felt. “I saw him staring at us through the window for half an hour,” he said, and Kyle’s shoulder sagged. _So Forrest had known that Michael was there._ “I tried to distract Alex so he wouldn’t notice. I didn’t know what to do when I heard the door open.”

Kyle pursed his lips, looking out the window himself. Michael’s truck was already so small in the distance, and Kyle wondered how long it would be before he was banging on Alex’s front door.

“Guerin has a temper, but . . . he’d never hurt Alex –”

“No, I – I know,” Forrest chuckled wearily, shaking his head. “I just . . . wanted Alex to have a break tonight. Alien Guy can have whatever he wants tomorrow.”

And the way Forrest smiled told Kyle that he meant it. Forrest seemed to _know_ that Michael had barely managed to restrain himself tonight, that if he’d needed something from Alex, he would get it, and he was genuinely okay with it. Maybe it was because, like Kyle, Forrest knew what Alex and Michael were to each other, that wherever one was, the other was never far behind.

Forrest, unlike Michael, knew the darkest parts of Alex and seemed to have no problem with loving him anyway.

Kyle slumped back in his seat, his arms crossed. “Oh you’re _good_.”

Forrest grinned, the tension at the table almost completely gone in an instant. “I _did_ say I wanted to impress you.”

“And you just went for the highest bar, didn’t you?”

“Did it work?”

Kyle tilted his head. “Michael Guerin is the one factor you’ll never be able to plan for. You do know that, right? Alex’s _darkest_ point is Michael.”

“Are you trying to scare me away?”

“I think Alex has had enough empty promises,” Kyle said. “If you can’t handle it –”

“Alex is worth it,” Forrest said, and Kyle fell silent. “He’s worth the Manes Legacy, worth the fear of loving someone who will always love someone else, and, _yes_ , worth dealing with Michael Guerin. He’s worth all of it, whatever comes.”

Kyle said nothing for a moment, not knowing what he _could_ say, and Forrest raised a brow. “Impressed _now_?”

Kyle scoffed, grabbing his milkshake off the table, unable to help the quirk of his own lips. “I’m mulling it over.”


	148. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2x13 last scene theory.

Alex was fine.

Michael kept telling himself that as he watched his airman set up his piano on the stage at the Wild Pony. When Maria had offhandedly told him that Alex would be performing at karaoke night, he’d thought she was joking. Then Alex had gotten up from the small table where he’d been sitting with Forrest, looking like he was going to be sick, and Michael made whatever excuse he could to grab a seat in the back, in the shadows, watching.

Alex had seemed fine.

The second he’d starting playing the piano, the entire room was mesmerized. Michael had always known Alex could sing, but never like _that_. He’d listened, unable to help but do anything else. And then Alex had taken one step off the stage, and faltered.

His smile dimmed, his brows furrowed, and he swayed on his feet. Michael got to his feet in an instant, but Forrest – having apparently noticed the change, too – made it to his side first. Even from where he stood, Michael saw Alex’s smile, the small shake of his head, reassuring Forrest that he was okay.

As soon as he’d stepped away from Forrest’s arms, his smile fell to something pained, his hand reaching up the nape of his neck. Michael, ignoring a hand on his shoulder, went after him. He’d barely made it to the bathroom before Alex stepped in and shut the door in his face.

“Alex?” Michael called. The rest of the bar was filled with loud music and chatter, so loud that no one else heard the heavy breathing on the other side of the door, the rustling inside.

Michael’s heart hammered in his chest. He’d been watching Alex closely since they’d saved him from his family and Helena. The airman had barely gotten his blood drawn and his heart checked and he was already putting on his jacket, ready to leave the hospital despite Kyle’s insistence that he needed to stay. The only thing Kyle had come to notice was that there was a burn mark on the nape of Alex’s neck, the same one they’d found on Max and Jenna.

“It stings,” Alex had said, wincing away from Michael when he’d tried to touch it. “But that’s all.”

But that didn’t seem to be all. Alex had been off, quieter, lost in thought too often. Michael hadn’t dared bring it up, to risk having Alex revisit those painful few weeks he’d been trapped. Now, however, as he stood outside the door, he wished he’d brought it up sooner.

“Alex,” Michael tried again, “open the door. Come on, Private,” he shook the knob. “Alex, _open the door_!”

The rustling went on for another few seconds, then utter silence followed. Michael moved closer to the door, brows furrowed, dread building in his chest. Maybe everything was okay, maybe Alex was calming down, maybe he would be out any second. Michael was just resolving to force Alex into his truck and take him home the second he stepped out, when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out. It read one text from Max; _Flint’s been mind-controlled. Don’t let Alex out of your sight._

The dread that had been slowly building in Michael’s chest flooded his entire body. Using his powers, he forced the bathroom door to swing open. He froze.

The sink and floor were covered in blood, the window was open, and Alex was gone.


	149. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has been saved, and Jesse is in a coma.

“How is he?” Michael asked.

Kyle sighed, closing the door to the room behind him. “How do you think?” he said.

Michael sighed, falling back against the wall. “I don’t get it,” he said. “It’s _Jesse_. Forgetting, for a second, that he beat Alex around his entire life, the guy kidnapped him and stuffed him in his basement for a _week_. So –”

“So why is he so upset? Why hasn’t he left his dad’s bedside since we brought him in?” Kyle raised a brow. “Sorry, I thought you were supposed to be in love with him, don’t you know him at all?”

“His dad’s a _monster_ –”

“Yeah, and nobody knows that more than Alex,” Kyle said, glancing at the door as if expecting to find Alex listening in to their conversation. “Maybe don’t remind him?”

Michael clenched his jaw. He hated this. He _hated_ seeing Alex so torn up about seeing his father in another medically induced coma, hated seeing Alex – who had suggested leaving his father in a coma the first time – miserable and paralyzed at the sight of him sick now. He hated seeing Alex so upset and not knowing why. Michael hated, most of all, not knowing how to help him.

“Can I see him?”

“Well, actually – _Guerin_!” Kyle tried grabbing Michael as he strode in past him, but Michael was too quick. Alex was sitting in front of his father’s bed, his back to the door, his arms crossed. He didn’t turned to look at them.

“Be careful,” Kyle whispered with a sigh before a closed the door quietly behind him, leaving Michael and Alex alone.

Michael tried not to look at Jesse’s unconscious form, the demon’s sleeping face only slightly less threatening than his waking one. It turned out it was easy to only focus on Alex, sitting there with his half-lidded eyes and rosy cheeks, the dark circles prominent and his cheeks hollow, the cuts alongside his wrist and bruises on his neck – all marks of his abduction. All at the hands of his brother and father.

But the thing Michael couldn’t help but notice above all was that Alex was humming something low under his breath, seemingly lost in thought. Alex was never lost in thought, never enough to not notice when other people were in the room. It was no wonder Kyle had thought it was safe to whisper Michael some advice when they were already inside; Alex clearly hadn’t paid either of them any attention.

Careful not to sneak up on him, Michael moved into Alex’s line of sight on his left, making sure the airman could see him before he said, “Hey, Private.”

Alex blinked several times and slowly looked up at Michael, his brows furrowed for the slightest second as if he didn’t know who the cowboy even was. Then, as Michael’s heart began to hammer with dread in his chest, Alex’s eyes focused and he moved to stand.

“Hey, uh – sorry, I – I didn’t –”

“No, hey,” Michael said, putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him in his seat. “It’s okay.”

Alex hesitated before letting himself be pushed back onto his chair. Michael took the one beside him, his hand falling from Alex’s shoulder to his arm for a moment before letting go.

Michael stared at Alex’s profile, unwilling and unable to look at anything or anyone else. “What were you singing?”

“Hm? Oh – uh – nothing, it was . . . something my dad used to sing to me before bed.”

Michael raised a brow. “I can’t imagine Jesse Manes singing lullabies to anyone.”

“Yeah,” Alex whispered. He looked hazed, as if he wasn’t really even seeing Jesse, but a past that no longer existed. “It was – uh – Pippin’s song, from The Lord of the Rings. Edge of Night, I think, I was . . . trying to remember the lyrics.”

Michael pursed his lips. Alex was shattering to pieces before his eyes, and all for a man who had planned to kill him. All for a man who hadn’t loved his son like he was supposed to.

“Alex –”

“You were right,” Alex cut him off, his expression numb, but his brows furrowed. “I was stupid for believing they still loved me.”

Michael frowned, horrified. He hadn’t really used that word, had he? He only remembered being angry with Alex, angry that the airman could like someone else, could move on at all from them, could be interested in a man that wasn’t _Michael_. But he hadn’t called Alex, the one that had done nothing but risk everything he had to protect Michael, _stupid_ . . . had he?

“ _Alex_ ,” he breathed.

“I just wanted a family,” Alex said quietly, and Michael was shocked to see a tear fall, pulling up both legs to his chest, wincing as his bad leg bent. He folded his arms over his knees, and rested his cheek on his arms as if preparing for a long night ahead of him. His head was turned away from Michael.

_They’re my family, Alex!_

 _All right, maybe! But you are_ mine _!_

“A-Alex –”

“Maybe I’m just better off alone,” Alex muttered.

After several minutes of letting his hand hover over Alex’s shoulder, Michael heard Alex start to hum Edge of Night again, so quietly that Michael may not have heard it at all unless there’d been complete silence in the room.

That’s when Michael really understood what Max had said all those months ago; he had _never_ been alone. There was always someone who cared for him, who felt his pain, who had _wanted_ him there.

Alex didn’t have his mother, would’ve been better off without his father, didn’t really speak to his brothers, had been separated from his friends in one way or another, and Michael . . .

Alex had told Michael that he was his family, but Michael didn’t remember ever once agreeing to that. Instead, he had pushed Alex away. He’d told Alex _no_. So many times. He’d _refused_ to be Alex’s family.

“Alex, I’m sorry,” Michael whispered before he could help himself, his hand falling in the space between Alex’s shoulder blades. The muscles tightened for only a moment beneath Michael’s touch, then they loosened as Michael’s fingers ran down his spine.

Michael’s forehead fell onto Alex’s shoulder, even as Alex kept singing, seemingly unaffected by Michael’s words. The ugly truth only then occurred to Michael; Alex didn’t believe him anymore.

And still, he repeated, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Alex, I’m so sorry.”

Alex sang, Pippin’s song a forgotten lullaby that he seemed to need now more than ever to keep himself asleep against the rest of the world, against Michael, and all of their empty promises of love.


	150. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the events of 2x12.

This was getting pathetic. Michael had been standing behind the corner, watching Alex as he sat opposite a closed hospital room for hours, and it was getting _pathetic_.

The airman was leaning forward on his knees, his face in his hands. Michael didn’t know why he was stalling, moving his hands in and out of his pockets. In his head, he could hear Gregory’s voice from last night.

_I know what he means to Alex._

Michael didn’t know why he was surprised. He’d known, all along, that he meant a lot to Alex. But to see Alex’s brother, who knew Alex so well, stand before Michael, ready to die because _that_ was how important Michael was supposed to be to the airman – it was overwhelming, it was frightening, it was _everything_.

He and Alex had barely spoken since Flint had been taken to the operating room, and not at all since they’d found Maria and had to take her to a room of her own. She was asleep now, surrounded by Liz and Rosa and Isobel and her mother. And Alex was here, alone, not expecting anyone else to show up.

Michael almost stepped back to hide behind the corner again when Alex stood, but the airman was only barely on his feet before he started to sway, looking like he might fall at any second.

Eyes wide, Michael forgot he wasn’t supposed to be seen, and rushed forward to catch him. “Hey, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” he said, one arm around Alex’s waist, the other hand under Alex’s elbow to keep him upright. He helped him onto his seat, taking the one beside him. His hand never fell from Alex’s waist.

“What –” Alex shook his head, his brows furrowed. “What time is it?”

“Six.”

Alex looked at Michael like he thought he might’ve heard wrong. “In the _morning_?”

Michael nodded. “Feels longer, doesn’t it?”

“Shorter,” Alex muttered. “Feels like I was cuffed to that heater, then I blinked, and now I’m here.”

Michael raised a brow, releasing Alex’s waist as the airman slumped back in his seat, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t remember anything in between?”

 _You don’t remember the way I hugged you, the way I came running to save you, the way you ended up saving_ me _?_

Alex seemed to hear the unspoken words, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He sat straighter and searched the floor as if wondering what excuse he could give for what Gregory had said. _Don’t worry, he was just being protective. No, I don’t remember. Why, did anything important happen?_ Or, and the one Michael found he feared above all the others, _Of course I care about you, Guerin, you’re my friend. I’ll always care about you._

Finally, Alex cleared his throat and asked, “How’s Maria?”

Michael deflated. He looked down. “She’s okay. Charlie was able to dismantle enough of the bomb so that it didn’t do more than give her a headache.”

Alex sighed, rubbing his face roughly with both hands. “I should go check on her. Make sure she’s –”

But no sooner had Alex tried to stand than he was falling back down again. Michael caught him at the last second.

“Whoa, Private,” Michael tried to keep his voice light. “You were _abducted_ , beaten, and chained for over a week. “You need to go home and rest.”

“I’ll go when Flint wakes up.”

“Why?” Michael insisted. “Seriously, Alex, _why_? He tried to kill every alien, _he’s_ why Maria’s unconscious right now, he threatened to kill _you_ –”

“I know what he’s done,” Alex said wearily. “I don’t need a list.”

“Then _why_ do you still care so much about him?” Alex didn’t answer, and Michael searched his face. He scoffed. “You still think he’s good.”

Michael might’ve expected Alex to snap at him, to get angry or offended. But this Alex, who had dared to have faith in his family for a second only to be stripped of that faith, now only sighed.

“I don’t know what to think,” Alex confessed quietly. He shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand. _Your_ mom never chose to leave you. Trust me, it changes everything.”

Michael said nothing for a long moment. Because it wasn’t just Flint that had been left behind, was it? It was Alex, too. And suddenly, Michael wanted Alex to smile. He wanted to see that weight on Alex’s shoulders, the weight forcing his eyes closed and his shoulders to drop, to vanish. Just for a second, he wanted to see Alex happy.

“Just think,” Michael said before he realized what he was saying. “If you had listened to me and stayed put, I could’ve been on my way to get you right now, and you’d be asleep on your comfy little makeshift bed.”

Alex huffed a laugh, and Michael’s heart jumped. It quickly turned to a light groan. “My abduction bed.”

“It was pretty soft when _I_ sat on it,” Michael shrugged.

“Right,” Alex’s eyes fluttered shut as his head fell back against the wall, a soft smile at his lips. “Maybe I’m just being a little picky considering, you know, I was actually held there against my will and all.”

“And you had a handsome cowboy coming back for you,” Michael teased, expecting Alex to laugh again. Instead, Alex’s eyes opened, his smile turned sadder.

“Coming back for me,” he repeated quietly, staring at the white door before him as if searching for something. He huffed a small, amused chuckle. “‘Come back tomorrow. We’ll talk then.’”

Michael’s smile fell. “That was different.”

Alex began to nod, but midway through, his lips curled and his eyes squinted and he made a face that screamed an amused, _But was it though?_

Michael must’ve looked as grim and guilty as he felt because Alex chuckled, patting Michael’s shoulder. “Guerin, it’s okay. I’m not your priority, I know that.”

Michael stared. “You really thought I wouldn’t come back for you.” It wasn’t a question.

Alex’s smile turned small as he turned back to watching the white door as if he could see through it and into the room. Alex licked his lips, the habit Michael had come to learn meant that the airman’s mind was running at a million miles a second.

“I think that . . . since you told me about Maria, you’ve been acting,” Alex scoffed, “ _weirdly_ guilty, even though you don’t have to be. It’s like you stabbed me, and you’ve been trying to make up for it since.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Oh come on,” Alex rolled his eyes. “You’re constantly making sure I don’t leave, you’re worried about how I feel, you built a _bomb_ just because I was threatened. I don’t know what you think you _owe_ me, but we were never dating. You never cheated on me. You don’t have to look out for me all the time.”

“Alex, I’m not –” Michael tried, but as he urged the words on his tongue past his lips, they refused. _I love you, I protect you because I want to, I can’t let you leave because I want you to always stay with me, I worry about how you feel because I’ve_ always _worried. I love you I love you I love you. And I can’t live without you, and it’s driving me more and more crazy every day that we’re not together._

Alex searched his face as Michael struggled to say the words he could so easily say to everyone else. He could tell the world how much he loved Alex Manes, but when it came to telling Alex himself, it was impossible. _Why_ was it so impossible?

_Because you know that if he turns you down, it would kill you_ , a voice in the back of his mind whispered.

“Alex,” Michael tried. “Alex, I . . . I . . .”

In the end he couldn’t do it. In the end, Alex looked disappointed, but not surprised.

Alex sighed, pressing the bottoms of his palms into his eyes. “Guerin, listen –”

“Alex,” Gregory came around the corner, holding a cup of steaming coffee in each hand. “Got you something to drink. You okay?” he asked quietly as he took a seat beside Alex, handing him a cup. He ran his now empty hand over the airman’s hair. Alex nodded, smiling wearily. Gregory raised his head to Michael. “Hey, Michael, sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

“No, I,” Michael said, his eyes on Alex, “I was just going back to see Maria.”

“Oh yeah,” Gregory said with a frown. “Hey, let us know when she wakes up, yeah? We’ll go check on her.”

Michael nodded. Alex gave him what he must’ve assumed was a comforting smile, but instead cut through Michael’s heart like a shard of glass. Michael turned away without returning the smile, hoping it would speak the words that his lips couldn’t.


	151. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cosmic.

It was electricity. One touch sent sparks throughout his body, and he felt the world around him disappear in an instant, like dark clouds after a storm, leaving nothing but Alex and a sea of mist around them.

He didn’t understand it, he never had, but he didn’t question it. It was unearthly, this thing between them. It pulled them both in until they were in the same space, until they were consumed with each other, incapable of breaking apart.

He rolled onto Alex, their naked bodies pressed together, their breathing soft and deep, as if their hearts had been suffocating all this time, and now, they were at peace. Michael ran his hand down Alex’s side, softly capturing Alex’s lips in his as his hand slid from his waist to his stomach. Alex’s fingers went from his spine to his lower back, pulling him in deeper.

The two moaned into each other’s mouths.

“I worship you,” he whispered against Alex’s lips. It wasn’t something he’d say when they were dressed and separated. It wasn’t something he would say if he had the chance to clear his head and really think about the depth of the words. But when he was this close to Alex, his brain had no say in the matter. It was what he felt, and for some reason, the control he had with others, even during sex, was not what he had with Alex.

It was fire. Every kiss, every breath, every thrust. It all forced him to take it slower, to hold back. He didn’t want to come now, he didn’t want it to end just yet. He took a few deep breaths, cupping Alex’s jaw and stroking his lips with his thumb. _It can’t end._

Michael forced that thought away. He didn’t want to think of what would happen after.

He resumed his pace, thrusting deeply, if only to see the look of sheer pleasure on Alex’s face. _It’s just me_ , Michael thought. _Only I can do this to you._

The two groaned as Michael hit his prostate, and repeatedly pushed into it, placing wet kisses along Alex’s jaw and neck. Alex wrapped his arms around Michael’s shoulders, pulling their chests flush against one another, and the two of them came almost at the same time.

It was epic. The way Alex’s eyes closed as if he could feel the comfort of the mist around them as well. The way beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, and his chest rose and fell as he panted, and his fingers instinctively tightened around Michael’s waist, his fingers stretching over the expanse of skin, keeping Michael there, on top of him.

“Alex,” he breathed, his eyes searching his face. Alex’s eyes slowly opened, glittering as they looked back at Michael’s, as if Michael was the only one he saw, the only one he ever wanted.

Michael swallowed and leaned down, kissing Alex again, and again, before finally rolling off him. He licked his lips and took Alex’s face in his hands, their kisses turning softer and gentler until they were just pressing their lips together. Michael’s head fell onto the pillow, and he watched with half-lidded eyes as Alex moved onto his side, folding his arm under his head. The corner of his lips tilted upward as if he couldn’t help it, his eyes watching Michael as if he was a dream come to life.

_It was_ cosmic, Michael thought as he leaned in and pressed his forehead against Alex’s, breathing in his scent, hoping it would be enough of a charm to keep the both of them there forever. _That’s the word._ Cosmic.


	152. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stop moving!"

“ **Stop moving!** ” Michael snapped as he held Alex’s face in place with one hand, his other rubbing ointment that Alex had ready in his bag on the purple bruise forming near his eye.

“Ow, _stop it_!” Alex pulled away, waving Michael’s hand off with his own. “You’re just making it worse.”

Michael clenched his jaw, staring intently at Alex as he tilted his head to get a better look at the rearview mirror in Michael’s truck, dabbing the ointment on himself, wincing with almost every touch of his own fingers.

“How the hell did you even get that bruise anyway?” Alex said nothing. “ _Alex_ –”

“I tripped,” he said with the air of someone who had those words memorized, someone who was too used to people asking how he got hurt, and was getting tired of answering. As if he knew saying anything else would be pointless.

_Get ahold of yourself_ , Michael thought. _You can’t possibly read him that well, you haven’t even known him that long._

Still, part of him argued as he took hold of the steering wheel, if only to have something to do, there was some kind of connection between them that Michael couldn’t explain, and he didn’t think he wanted to. He knew Alex hadn’t tripped, and he could already feel a hot rage course through him at the thought of someone laying their hands on him. The energy ran through his fingers, his chest, his mind, and he could _feel_ objects around him – the blanket, clothes, and guitar in the back of his truck, the cardboard boxes tossed against the store wall that Michael was parked next to, even the two cars parked across from them in the parking lot – begin to lose their density, as if preparing to take flight.

Michael glanced at Alex who hadn’t noticed his distress as he was busy applying the medicine to his injury, and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He had to _calm down_. He couldn’t imagine being much of a comfort if objects around them suddenly started levitating.

Alex hissed, snapping Michael out of his thoughts. There was a tremor in his hand as he held it near his face, his eyes shut tight. He took a deep breath through his grit teeth, and before Michael could ask, he said, “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Michael sighed, pushing all other thoughts away before he turned towards Alex. “Here, let me.” Alex started to object, pulling the ointment back, but Michael caught it. “Stop, I’m not gonna poke your eye out this time. Just don’t squirm.”

Alex hesitated, then leaned his side against the car seat as Michael carefully covered the bruise.

A moment of silence passed between them, not nearly as uncomfortable as Michael would’ve imagined it to be, then Alex said, “I didn’t ask you for your help, you know.”

Michael caught his eyes, lined with black eyeshadow, as always, staring back defiantly.

“I don’t need you to fix anything for me,” he said and straightened his shoulders, holding his head up properly as if proving to Michael that he didn’t even need his direction.

He pursed his lips, and watched Alex for another long couple of minutes. For what, he didn’t know. Maybe he hoped Alex would give up and confess that he’d been beaten, maybe he just wanted to have an excuse to stare at the boy who – somehow – made looking away impossible… or maybe Michael just wanted Alex to know that he saw through his desire to prove he was the bravest, the smartest, the most capable, and he, unlike everyone else seemed to, wasn’t expecting anything out of him. He wanted to show Alex that even if he did get upset, even if he started to get angry, he wouldn’t leave. Michael couldn’t explain it, couldn’t deny it, and he couldn’t force it away, but he knew that no matter what Alex did, he wouldn’t leave.

But that wasn’t what Michael said. Instead, his shoulders slumped and he scoffed, clenching his jaw so tightly he could swear he tasted blood. He hated the idea of letting it go, of allowing Alex to fool him, of brushing it aside as if he thought Alex was safe at home – safe _anywhere_ where he couldn’t protect him.

And yet –

“Fix what? You tripped, right?”

Alex searched Michael’s face, and for a split second, Michael saw the fear leak through. Alex had been expecting another reaction, and when he got none, he swallowed and nodded slowly, then settled against the seat once again, and silently allowed Michael to resume his work, hissing briefly.

Michael saw his fingers dig into his black jeans, undoubtedly to keep himself from yelling out or flinching away. He could feel the anger from before boiling back up, rising to the surface, and before he could think too much about what he was doing, he brought his hand up to Alex’s cheek with his hand, his touch much gentler than he knew himself capable of being.

Alex looked at him with slightly raised brows, his eyes searching his. Michael focused his gaze on the bruise, trying not to give any thought to the way his thumb involuntarily caressed Alex’s cheek, to ignore the way his heart jumped in his chest at the way Alex looked at him, to pretend he didn’t notice the way Alex ever so slightly leaned into his touch, as if he too didn’t understand what his body was doing.

He inhaled a shaky breath, and in a voice that did not sound like his own, he repeated, “Stop moving.”


	153. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm worried about you."

_Calm down_ , Michael warned himself, his blood pumping in his ears. _Calm down, calm down, calm down!_

It was hard for him to think straight, his thoughts consumed with images of _Kyle Valenti_ , of all people, with his arm around Alex’s shoulders, as if it was the most casual thing in the world, as if he was _used_ to touching him.

Michael clenched one fist around his now empty beer bottle, his other angrily shoving at whatever was near, and in his fit of rage, sent it flying across the road. A small part of him thought he should be more cautious not to cause a scene and get himself exposed, but the bigger, louder part was telling him it didn’t matter. That the bar behind him went on as it usually did, the music playing just as loudly, the other drunken morons chatting and laughing away as always, oblivious to the aliens living amongst them every day. That _in that bar_ there was Alex, _his_ Alex, with Kyle Valenti wrapped around him.

It shouldn’t have bothered him so much, he knew. He had women over every other night, and Alex never said a word about any of it, but… this was different. This was Alex with someone else, and Michael was selfish, and the thought that the airman was with _anyone_ – Kyle especially – but Michael pissed him off in a way he didn’t think was possible.

He came to an abrupt stop in front of another building, his grip on the beer bottle so tight that his knuckles had gone white, and he tried to slow his racing heart, his breath coming out in shaky exhales. He tried not to think of Alex, but the more he tried, the worse he failed, and in rapid images that flashed brightly at the front of his mind, forbidding him from thinking of anything else, he saw him. He saw Alex laughing with Valenti, his arm around his waist, the two of them together, kissing, tearing each other’s clothes off, waking up together –

Michael was yanked out of his thoughts by a painful sting in his hand, and he saw that the beer bottle he’d been holding had shattered, some of the glass having cut into his palm. He huffed, annoyed at the blood that trickled down his fingers, and with a single thought, sent whatever glass shards there were in his hand shooting out through the already open cuts. He waved his hand to cool off the burning sting, his mind racing back to Alex and Kyle together as if it couldn’t wait to torture him.

He pursed his lips, trying to pretend it didn’t bother him, but that plan quickly failed and a car driving by beside him nearly got blasted off the road.

Michael felt a hand on his shoulder, and Alex’s voice broke through everything else, coming to Michael as clearly as it always did.

“Guerin, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said, glancing at the car as it managed to make its way back onto the road, the driver clearly confused about whatever pushed him. “You could’ve hurt someone.”

Michael stared at Alex, watching the way his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed, his eyes shined as they searched Michael’s face for some kind of answer or explanation for what he nearly just did. For a second, his muscles began to relax and his thoughts quieted down, and then he briefly wondered if Alex’s eyes shined like that for Kyle, too, and he all but lost his mind.

He shrugged Alex’s hand off, and walked past him, trying to ignore the cold that suddenly struck him after the loss of Alex’s touch.

“Guerin,” he heard Alex say behind him, trying to keep up with Michael’s fast strides, and Michael couldn’t help but think of Alex’s leg. He subtly slowed down, and his march lost a bit of its angry stomp, but Michael was petty, and that meant that even if Alex could talk to him, it didn’t mean he had to respond. He didn’t think he could without thinking of Valenti, his hands all over Alex’s body.

Michael flinched at the thought and turned away from Alex, but not before he caught the hurt that flashed across his face. It was gone quickly enough – Alex didn’t seem to want to show any emotion the way he easily smiled around Kyle – and Michael, feeling his fingers twitch, moved away.

Alex caught his arm, his eyes on his injury. “What happened to your hand?”

Michael scoffed. “Oh, you care. That’s nice.”

He frowned. “Why are you acting like this, what’s wrong?”

Michael swallowed, his smirk faltering. _What’s wrong is that you smile at Valenti like you’re best friends, and I can’t even remember the last time you smiled at me like that. What’s wrong is that I can’t stand the idea of anyone touching you but me. What’s wrong is that you ask me what’s wrong, and all I want to do is tell you what I’m feeling, but I’m terrified of fucking things up again._

“Nothing,” he said. “Go back to your boyfriend, Alex.”

“What’re you talking about?” he asked, but Michael had already turned away. Alex tried again to stop him, and he lost all semblance of patience.

“Guerin –”

Michael took him suddenly by his shoulders and slammed him against an alley wall. Alex didn’t look scared or terribly surprised – _of course_ , Michael thought, he was a veteran who probably got tossed around a lot – only confused as to why Michael was behaving this way.

He couldn’t understand it himself. All he knew for sure was that the world had seemed to disappear and it was only him and Alex, and they hadn’t been close enough, and now, with Michael caging him in with his body, they were. He was pissed off, and though he knew it was completely unreasonable, he didn’t care, not in the least.

His hands fell down to Alex’s arms, the blood from the glass staining Alex’s shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind it as he watched Michael with furrowed brows.

Michael clenched his jaw. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“What’s going on with you?” Alex asked instead, his look unwavering. “Why’d you storm out? Why are you blowing crap up?”

“Because this is what I’m like, Alex. I get pissed off for no reason, and I blow things up when I feel like it.”

Alex stared, then, “ **I’m worried about you.** The second you left my sight, I was terrified. That’s the truth, Guerin.”

Michael faltered, blinking rapidly as if trying to wake himself up from the angry haze. He was angry, he was supposed to be angry, but Alex’s bluntness caught him off guard.

“Okay?” Alex said, and Michael could hear the faint hesitance in his voice. “That’s the truth. Now will you tell me what’s really bothering you?”

Michael realized right then that his fingers were digging into Alex’s arms. He wanted to step back, to pull away, but he couldn’t. Instead, he brought a hand down to the small of Alex’s back, and pulled his body flush against his.

“What would you do if I kissed you right now? Would you hate me?” his tone was defiant, asking Alex how far he would allow him to go, how much he truly cared about what Michael wanted.

Because Michael didn’t want them to be friends. He didn’t want the risk of Alex getting to know the person he really was, and deciding he didn’t want a romantic relationship. Because Michael wants Alex. He’d always wanted him, and he wanted him now. If Kyle had already gotten to him first –

“It’s impossible for me to hate you, Guerin,” Alex said softly, “but you won’t do it. You won’t kiss me.”

Michael leaned in. “I could.”

Alex nodded, their lips almost brushing as he said in barely over a whisper, “You could. But you won’t.”

And it killed Michael – it _killed_ him – because he knew Alex was right. Michael hated this new arrangement between them, to have to start from the beginning, to have that fear of exposing too much of his darker self to Alex and sending him away for good, but he wouldn’t ruin it. He couldn’t. Alex knew that Michael loved him, that Michael could only love him, and whatever else he doubted, Michael now knew that Alex trusted him completely.

That was why Alex wasn’t afraid that Michael would hurt him or do anything to him against his will. Not because he was a soldier and could fend him off, but because he had faith in him, the kind that kept fear away, no matter how drunk or angry Michael might’ve been. Alex knew he wouldn’t betray him.

Michael found himself panting, whether it was because of the adrenaline leaving him or because of the feel of Alex’s body pressed against his, he didn’t know, but after a few forced deep breaths, he pulled away, though not too far that Alex couldn’t reach him.

Alex sighed and rubbed his arms, and Michael couldn’t help but notice him subtly massage the blood-stained area where he’d been holding him.

Before he could comment on it, however, Alex gestured to his injured hand, and said, “We better get that cleaned up. Come on.”

Michael held his hand up to look at it, almost having forgotten that it was cut at all. He was about to say he didn’t need any help, that he could mend this problem himself, but at Alex’s expectant eyes, waiting for him to follow him back to the bar, the sentence died in his throat, and he fell into place beside him.


	154. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What happened to you?"

“Maybe we’ll find something in his journals,” Kyle said, already making his way to the pile of notebooks and loose paper.

“Great idea,” Michael said dryly, his feet on the table in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. “The old man’s diary entries, that ought to be helpful.”

“Do you have anything useful to say, or do you just plan on sitting there all night?”

“Most useful thing I have to say, Valenti, I’ve already said it. Trusting you is a bad idea, especially considering the fact that I’m just now finding out that you and Alex have been getting awfully cozy in this bunker for _months_ –”

“We’re partners,” Kyle said, and Michael’s expression hardened. “I trust him a lot more than I trust any of you to work with on this, and believe me, if it hadn’t been for him, _you_ would not be here right now.”

He stood. “You and Alex aren’t partners. Don’t use that word again. He only got roped into this because of you and your big mouth.”

“So you’re upset he knows the truth now? Were you having that much fun lying to his face every day?”

“You son of a bitch –”

“ _Enough_!” Alex snapped. His hands were clenched into fists on the console, and there was a slight slump in his shoulders as if standing for so long was draining. He looked over his shoulder, annoyed. “You’re giving me a migraine with all this ridiculous bickering, can you please give it a rest for two minutes and focus?!”

Michael leaned against the table with a scoff, but said nothing. Alex huffed, and said, “I read through the journals—”

“- _All_ of them?” Michael asked, his brows raised slightly in surprise.

“-and none of them have said anything about aliens, mentioned the letters, or explains why they’re written in that new language.” He looked over his shoulder at Kyle. “You’d probably have a better chance at finding something, if anything’s there at all. He may have used a special word or nickname that I’m just unfamiliar with.”

“Gotcha,” Kyle nodded once, and Michael couldn’t help but be bitter at how familiar they sounded. He knew they’d been working with each other for months, but part of him had imagined – or _hoped_ , really – that Alex had hated every second of it, had forced himself to be around Kyle for the sake of uncovering a mystery and making things right.

Now, as Alex nodded back to Kyle and turned to resume his work without question, Michael could see the amount of trust they shared.

_We’re partners_ , Kyle’s words rang in his ears, and he pursed his lips, watching with a glare as Kyle glanced at him before taking the notebooks and leaving.

In the quiet, Michael could hear Alex muttering to himself, typing rapidly on the keyboard as if he knew what each next move was.

“What’re you doing?” Michael asked, pulling himself off the table and taking a step towards him.

“Cross-referencing the symbols from that broken UFO piece to any kind of ancient epigraphy. Jim Valenti was clearly working on the same alien symbols, even used them himself, which means they’re a language. If I can locate a similar written pattern recorded at any point in Roswell, especially around the initial crash time, I can find whoever else Jim might’ve been in contact with.”

Michael stared. “You used to play guitar. Do you still do that?”

Alex blinked, as if Michael’s statement made no sense, as if he wasn’t talking about Alex at all. “What?”

Michael came closer, and leaned his back against the console, his eyes on Alex. “You used to play guitar. You used to wear makeup, and ripped jeans, and you talked about wanting to make music.”

“So did you,” Alex said with a smile that did nothing to hide the pain in his eyes. Michael shook his head. Had Alex always looked so… _sad_?

“ **What happened to you** , Alex **?** Now you’re talking about coordinates a-and ancient languages and you’re using words like _in contact with_. And this isn’t because of the alien crap, you were like this when you were still making jokes that it didn’t exist.”

“War happened, Guerin,” Alex said very matter-of-factly. There was no venom in his voice, no cruelty, no taunting… but it still made Michael’s face fall, any false humor in his tone gone.

“I’m smarter than you give me credit for, you know,” he smirked, and Michael didn’t fail to miss the hurt that flashed his face, as if he thought Michael had considered him incapable of anything to do with intelligence. Michael wanted to close the gap between them and take Alex in his arms, but Alex had gone rigged all over, signaling he didn’t want to be touched.

“I got good, quickly, and the better I got, the more they wanted me to do.” He scoffed. “It’s a tough mindset to get out of when you’ve been in it long enough. There’s always a war, a fight, a battle to be won or lost. Always.”

Michael swallowed, his fingers digging into his arms as he kept them crossed. “Why didn’t you ever say no? You could’ve walked away. You could’ve come home.”

Alex smirked. “ _Home_. What, to my dad, who hates me? My brothers who think I’m a waste of space? Liz, who had left Roswell and gone off to who-knew-where? Maria had her own problems, Kyle and I barely looked at each other at the time, and you…” he trailed off, and resumed his typing, his eyes focused on the screen.

“I didn’t have a home to come back to, Guerin.”

“But now you do?”

Alex’s fingers hesitated over the keyboard, and Michael pained at how easy it was for Alex to dismiss having no one to be there for him. He was used to it, so expectant of it, that when he talked, Michael felt it as a sort of resignation. Alex thought he had been abandoned by everyone. He still thought that way, and the worst part was… he didn’t mind.

“Now,” he said, pulling Michael out of his thoughts, “I have this.” He gestured to the screen with his chin, and went back to work. “It’s something.”

Michael said nothing for a moment – what _could_ he say? – and Alex chuckled. “Don’t feel too bad for me, Guerin. I got hurt saving my brothers-in-arms, I can proudly and confidently say that. There are worse ways to lose a limb. And for what it’s worth, Kyle didn’t tell me anything about the alien stuff, I figured it out on my own. Like I said; I’m smarter than you give me credit for.”

Michael stared at Alex as he searched his screen, unable to look away. He stretched an arm out, his hand hovering over Alex’s head, his fingers close to brushing his hair. He wanted to touch Alex, to hold him tightly and breathe in his scent, if only to prove to himself that while Alex had changed, he was still here. With him. And he wasn’t going to disappear anywhere else, _ever_ again.

But then the door opened, and Kyle walked back in, an entirely new stack of notebooks tucked into one arm, the recent ones in his other.

He set them on a table with a loud _thump_ , and Michael took a step back from Alex, unable to help but glance at him even as Kyle watched him.

“I brought everything I could find that he ever wrote in,” Kyle said, his eyes having gone to Alex as he plopped down in a chair beside the table. “Better get started, huh?”

“I’ll help you look through them again,” Alex said, turning away from the computer and taking a seat beside him.

“Good idea, it’d be a lot faster,” Kyle agreed.

“Just tell me if there was any secret word or phrase that you shared, something that might help us decode whatever clue there might be in here…”

Michael tilted his head as he watched them, their heads huddled together, pouring over the journal entries. He felt a jealousy burning in his stomach, but there was something else beside it. Something scarier and darker and sadder. Michael realized with an uncomfortable jolt that forced him to look away from the two as they worked that Alex _had_ made a family when he returned to Roswell, but it wasn’t him. It was Kyle.


	155. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Not everything is a joke."

“Do I want to know?” Alex said with a resigned sigh in his voice as he took a seat beside Michael who was dabbing the bloody cut on his lip with his finger.

Michael saw Alex, and put his hand down, acting like the beating he’d just suffered didn’t hurt as badly as it looked. He reached for his beer bottle, and clenched his jaw to keep himself from wincing.

He smirked. “Whether or not I’m free tonight? I think anyone would wanna know that. And for the record; for you, anytime.”

Alex raised a brow, and Michael’s smile soon turned small. He sighed, checked to see if his cut was still bleeding, and when it wasn’t, he took a swig of his bottle. “I’m fine, Alex.”

“How’d you manage to get into this one?”

He paused a moment, then shrugged. “He was looking at me funny.”

“He was… _looking at you funny_?”

“Mm hm.”

“And the real story is?”

Michael set his bottle on the table, albeit a little too roughly, but he was annoyed. “Well, what do you know? Even when we were kids, you never could stay out of my business. Nice to know some things never change.”

“ **Not everything is a joke** , you know.”

He nodded. “Thanks for that wonderful piece of insight, I’ll treasure it.”

“I thought you were done getting into stupid bar fights,” Alex said, and he was starting to sound annoyed himself. “Haven’t you grown out of that yet?”

“Haven’t you learned to tell when you’re not wanted?” Michael snapped, and though he said the words quietly enough that only Alex could hear, he felt the heavy weight of them on his tongue as they left his lips like a strong poison.

The look on Alex’s face made the sting worse, and right away, Michael wished he could take it all back. _Not wanted._ He knew he wasn’t the only one that had ever felt that way. It was what, Michael would argue, had bonded him and Alex in the first place; the both of them feeling like there was no place for them, that no one wanted them, except for each other. But the truth was, Michael had Max and Isobel, and Alex… Alex had gone to war for it.

Alex looked down, then away, and Michael _knew_ that he had not expected his Guerin, of all people, to say those words to him.

He swallowed. “Alright,” he said quietly, tapping the table. “You want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

Michael kept his eyes on his glass bottle, fully aware of Alex making his way off the stool, but before he could move any further away, Michael’s hand seemed to reach out on its own and grab his, stopping him.

He could feel Alex’s curious eyes on him, and he swallowed nervously. Alex was going to really leave unless he stopped him. He was really going to lose him again. He couldn’t handle that, not tonight. He inhaled a silent, shaky breath and said in a confident voice that he did not think he had. “You’re really gonna leave me when my face looks like this?”

Alex raised a brow. “I thought you wanted me to leave.”

“When have I _ever_ wanted you to leave?!” he snapped. “For the love of God, just sit down, and don’t go anywhere.”

He stared, then Michael saw the corner of his lips rise in a half-smile, and he felt something settle peacefully in his chest, the burn on his tongue gone as Alex sat down beside him, their arms brushing. With every touch, Michael felt himself able to breathe easily, and he couldn’t help but miss the warmth of Alex’s hand as it slipped out of his. They’d never done that, he realized. Hold hands.

“ _Do_ I want to know?” he repeated, his eyes staring straight into Michael’s, and Michael could tell now that Alex actually cared about the answer.

He swallowed. _He was talking about you_ , he almost said, if only for that look of genuine concern on Alex’s face, his plea that Michael be honest with him.

“No,” he ended up saying. It was honestly the only truth he would allow himself to give him.

_He mocked you. He said a lot of ugly crap about you for being gay._

“No?” Alex asked, and not with an irritated tone or one of disappointment. Just as a reassurance that this really was something that Michael wanted him out of. And he did want to keep Alex out of it. If no one else, Alex had to stay out of it.

_He was looking at me funny… because he knew that I meant something to you. And he_ mocked _that, Alex…. He mocked it._

“No,” Michael assured him with a voice barely over a whisper, and after a moment of searching Michael’s face, Alex nodded.

The next thing he knew, Alex had his fingers under his chin, turning his face left and right. “You look like hell, by the way.”

Michael smirked. “Does that mean you’re planning on nursing me back to health?”

Alex, despite his seemingly very best efforts, huffed out a chuckle. Michael couldn’t help it; he smiled. Some jokes, he thought, weren’t that bad. Not if they could make Alex laugh.


	156. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can't stay in bed all day."

Michael woke up to soft kisses along his spine, moving from the small of his back to the space between his shoulder blades. He smiled and sighed contentedly into his pillow. _Alex._

He turned over in bed, hoping for nothing more than to hold his boyfriend’s body close to him, bury his face against his skin and inhale his scent for the rest of the day, but when he reached over, his brows furrowed.

He peeked his eyes open and saw Alex sitting at the edge of the bed in jeans, a shirt, and a jacket. He frowned. “Why are you dressed?”

Alex tilted his head at him, his smile filled with an amusement Michael didn’t ever think he would show around him. “It’s eight.”

“Hence my question; why are you dressed?”

“Come on, Guerin, it’s late enough.”

Michael groaned, tugging Alex’s shirt. Whether to drag Alex back into bed or to undress him, he couldn’t be sure of. “No, come on, Private, you’re not in the army anymore.”

Alex pressed his lips together, though he looked like he was about to laugh. “Yes, I am.”

“Well, you’re not with the sergeants and lieutenants right now,” Michael said, slipping a hand under Alex’s shirt, running his fingers along his naked stomach. “You’re here with me, and _me_ has rules about getting up at the crack of dawn and _clothes_.”

Alex removed Michael’s hand, and kissed it before taking it in both of his. “I know your sleeping habits, Guerin. If you don’t wake up now, you’ll be asleep till noon.”

“I’m failing to see the problem here,” Michael had given up on pulling Alex back to bed – damn airman was stronger than someone without half his leg should’ve been – and instead stretched out to place his on head on Alex’s lap, forbidding him from moving.

“ **You can’t stay in bed all day** ,” Alex laughed, and Michael smiled. Sometimes he forgot that Alex was happy with him. Sometimes he was unsure. Then he would smile or laugh, and Michael would know that he meant it, and everything would feel… _better_. Even now, as he nudged Michael up.

“Damn military training,” he groaned as he sat up.

Alex leaned in, his fingers gently making their way up Michael’s chest. “I thought I was very kind in the way I woke you up,” he said with a voice so quiet and deep that Michael felt the smile slip off his face. He wanted to touch Alex so badly his fingers tightened in the bedsheet. Alex brought his hand up to Michael’s cheek, and Michael followed his touch, his lids suddenly very heavy as he exhaled a deep breath.

“But,” he continued, “if you didn’t like it, I had a much louder alarm clock during my _damn military training_ –”

Michael lost it. He wrapped his arms around Alex’s shoulders and turned them over so that Alex was lying on the bed, and Michael was not only hovering over him, but was caging him in from leaving.

“If you ever bring a trumpet anywhere near me, I _swear_ ,” he said in a low voice, his lips a mere few inches from Alex’s. He wasn’t the kind of guy to dote on his boyfriend, but he really hoped Alex never found out how unbelievably attractive he was. He’d seen others, both male and female, ogling at him from far away, and every time, he wanted to bring a protective arm around the private’s shoulders and kiss him senseless, right there in public. But he knew Alex wouldn’t be too happy with that, so he always settled for a glare.

He caressed Alex’s cheek with his thumb, searching his eyes that shined as they stared back at Michael, full of such a fondness that Guerin wanted to take his lips in his and feel every part of him. So he did.

As he and Alex kissed, he felt Alex’s hands come to his waist and gently push up until their lips were no longer connected. Alex was breathing heavily, his cheeks pink. “We really have to get up now.”

“No,” Michael said, licking his lower lip, “we really don’t.”

And before Alex could get another word out, Michal captured his lips again, and brought himself further down so that his chest pressed against Alex’s. Alex moaned, fueling the fire in Michael’s gut. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss at the same time that he stuck one hand up Alex’s shirt, his fingers stretching over his stomach, then higher to his chest hair.

He pulled back, huffing against Alex’s lips, the corners of his lips rising as he said, “Say it with me; Another two hours.”

Alex, through his haze, laughed, and as he brought Michael’s face back down, he said, “Another hour.”


	157. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why don't you just google it?"

Alex groaned. Alex never groaned. It was how Michael knew something was wrong, but they hadn’t been dating long, and Michael didn’t know what you were supposed to do when your boyfriend – _boyfriend_ , he couldn’t believe he got to use that word – was frustrated over his computer, looking at it like it was a friend he once trusted but was making his job extremely difficult now.

“You okay?” Michael asked from where he was laid out on the large metal table. Since he and Alex had made things official, Michael found he no longer had to find excuses to be with his boyfriend, which usually meant that wherever Alex was, Michael was never far behind. And since Alex was always in the bunker, Michael had done his best to make the place as comfortable and less military-styled as he could.

Still, Alex never seemed to mind it. _Then again_ , Michael thought, _he_ has _been_ _stuck in between military bases and cockpits for the last ten years. This place must be like home to him._

The thought made Michael a little sad, and he pushed it away before he could dwell on it too much, just as Alex huffed, running a hand through his hair. “These damn coordinates. I just don’t understand what Jim was thinking; why jot them down? They lead to nowhere.”

Michael sat up. “Maybe they’re not coordinates.”

“What else could they be?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “ **Why don’t you just google it?** ”

Alex turned and stared, then said, “I don’t – I can’t tell if you’re… I’m sorry, are you being serious?”

“Why not?”

“Why not enter top secret information into a web of conspiracy theorists and ghostbusters?”

“You found out about _me_ through a conspiracy.”

Alex shook his head, and for a second, Michael could’ve sworn he’d broken through the armor of fatigue and gotten an amused smile out of his boyfriend, but as quickly as it came, it was gone. _Alex is exhausted_ , Michael realized, and wondered how he had yet to notice.

“That was different,” Alex said. “For one thing, it wasn’t from the internet.”

Michael came up behind Alex, narrowed his eyes at the screen, and said, “Wait a minute, are these the same coordinates that I helped you look over last night?” Alex nodded. “You still trying to get through them?”

“Kyle asked me to,” Alex said simply, as if Michael was supposed to understand that at Kyle’s request, Alex would do anything. He clenched his jaw and tried very hard to keep in mind that he was a mature adult, that Alex loved _him_ , that Alex was _his_ boyfriend. And he succeeded… for all of two seconds.

“Great,” he grumbled before he could help himself, his hands turning to fists on the back of Alex’s chair where he knew Alex wouldn’t see them. “Kyle again. I forgot you two were besties now.”

Alex’s shoulders slumped, and Michael instantly regretted his words. He knew how much stress Alex had been under lately, with the work he had issued from his military base, his rounds, and this investigation into Jim Valenti that Michael knew was about more than just helping out Kyle. Jim had been special to Alex, had helped him in a time when nobody else had, had left him a home to go to.

Michael mentally scolded himself for acting petty, and placed his hands on Alex’s shoulders, ready to apologize, when he felt the slight shake beneath his palms and realized that Alex was chuckling.

“You’re jealous,” he said, rubbing his face tiredly, though the smile never left his lips. “That’s bizarre.”

Michael felt the corners of his lips tilting upwards. “You like seeing me jealous?”

Alex was caught off guard, and barked out a laugh. Michael smiled at the sound and wrapped his arms around Alex’s shoulders, his lips against Alex’s hair. “You’re not even gonna bother denying it?”

“Why would I? You know I don’t like him.”

Alex leaned back against Michael, holding his arms in place. “It would make my life a lot easier if you did.”

Michael groaned. “Valenti, everywhere I look, he pops up.”

His boyfriend nodded gravely, though he looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Sounds like hell.”

Michael leaned down, capturing Alex’s pout with his lips. “It really is,” he said, and pecked his lips again before standing straight.

“Okay,” he sighed dramatically as he squinted at the coordinates on the screen, though his hold on Alex tightened until they were pressed firmly against each other. “Let’s try this again.”


	158. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're a terrible liar."

Alex had been up for days, and was starting to forget what having coherent thoughts felt like. Since Michael had said those dreaded words, since he’d so enthusiastically confessed to Alex that he was trying to leave the planet, Alex had found it impossible to sleep. So, he did what he could; he focused on Jim Valenti and Project Shepherd. He went over Jim’s records, as well as his father’s files over and over again, his and Kyle’s only lead having been Caulfield, an old state prison.

“This guy sounds like he was off his rocker,” Michael said as he searched the halls with them, his hands in his pockets, his eyes glancing at Alex and Kyle every so often.

Alex’s migraines, which had started off as simple stings a few days ago, were now violently throbbing, and with Michael chirping in every few seconds, for seemingly no other reason than to piss Kyle off, Alex was struggling to remember why he had asked for his help with this investigation.

 _Because you need him,_ the small part of Alex’s brain, that was usually fighting for sleep, reminded him. Alex had recently discovered that Caulfield was somehow linked to Project Shepherd, and he knew that whatever his father and Jim Valenti had been doing, they had been doing it together, and the answers were most likely to be here.

 _And I need Guerin here with me_ , he silently confessed. _It’s ridiculous, and childish, and if I managed to survive a decade as an airman, this shouldn’t be so hard._

“But it is,” he muttered loudly, unaware of himself.

“You say something, Alex?” Kyle asked, and Alex could hear the barely constrained irritation in his voice as he glanced at Michael. _Apparently,_ he thought, _Michael’s tactics to upset Kyle were working._

Alex shook his head slightly. “Nothing. No, nothing.”

“Alex,” Michael said, his voice closer now, softer, “are you okay?”

 _No_ , he wanted to say. _You’re leaving, and I’m so sleep deprived because of it that I don’t think I can spell my own name right now._

But Alex only ran a hand over his face, and said, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“I don’t get it,” Kyle said. “What would our dads be doing in this place?”

Michael shrugged. “Any number of things. They could’ve been called in to separate a jail fight, going over security protocol, overseeing a transfer.”

Kyle scoffed, and Michael eyed him darkly. “You got something to say?” And Alex closed his eyes, rubbing his temples, because he already knew where this was going.

“You just seem to know a lot about what happens in prisons.”

“It’s cause I’m smart, Valenti. I know you must wonder what that’s like—”

“I’m a _doctor_!”

“Great, if someone gets a papercut, your expertise will come in handy.”

“Stop it!” Alex snapped, and it nearly lost him his balance. There was a buzzing in his ear, and he caught himself just before asking if anyone else heard it. _I need to sleep_. He pinched the bridge of his noise, his eyes shut tight.

When he opened them again, both Kyle and Michael were eying him with concern.

“Alex,” this time Kyle asked, his eyes narrowed. “When was the last time you slept?”

Alex sighed, irritated. They didn’t have time for this. “They had to do it together?” Alex said. “A sergeant and a small-town cop?”

Kyle looked like he wanted to keep pushing, but eventually he said, “Jesse Manes wasn’t always a sergeant.”

“Yes,” Alex said. “He was.” Kyle looked at him like he understood what he meant, which Alex appreciated, while Michael’s look was unreadable. Alex couldn’t take the pressure of it, and he turned away. “Whatever they were doing here, it wasn’t under any official orders. They had their own agenda.”

“Which was _what_?” Kyle shook his head, looking around as if still trying to understand how they ended up here. Alex couldn’t really blame him. It was hard to believe his father would associate himself with anyone from a jail, as self-righteous as he always thought himself to be. “My _god_ , Alex, what were they doing?”

Alex put a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. It was more than the two of them were used to, or had been used to in a long time, and Alex was fully aware of Michael’s eyes on him, burning a hole into his hand, but he knew that Kyle needed some comfort now, and his thoughts were too loud to think of anything else. He _really_ needed to sleep.

“We’ll figure it out, okay? Do you plan on tapping out anytime soon? Because I don’t.”

Kyle looked at him for a long time, then said, “You mean that, right? Cause all of this, it’s – it’s too much. I can’t take it by myself, I don’t know how –”

“ _You won’t have to_ ,” he said with as much certainty as he could muster in his half-dazed state. “This is just as much for me as it is for you. We’re in this together, okay?” He dropped his hand, glancing at Michael who was looking to the side, his jaw clenched. Alex knew he should’ve talked to him, but the ache in his head and his muscles were urging him to stay focused on the mission at hand.

“Let’s split up,” Alex said. “Cover more ground.”

Right away, Kyle and Michael’s faces turned to surprise, then to objection as they both talked at the same time.

“Are you out of your mind?” Kyle said.

“We don’t know what’s hiding here, what to expect,” Michael claimed.

“And look at you, you’re obviously not okay!”

“I’m confused,” Alex said, trying to rest his weight on his left leg. “Are you guys just afraid of going by yourselves, or are you worried for me? Which one is it? Because if you’re worried about yourselves, you could always pair up together. If it’s for me –”

“It’s for you,” they both said at once.

Alex rubbed his face. “If it’s for me, I should remind you that I’m the only one here equipped to carry a gun, and have dealt with life-threatening injuries on multiple occasions in the past.”

Michael raised a brow. “Well, I feel better.”

“It _means_ that if, for whatever reason, I do get seriously hurt, I’m the only one of us that’ll be able to take it. At least, until one of you gets to me. Okay? Okay.”

“Keep your phone on you!” he heard Kyle call out before they split down three separate corridors, each with dim lighting, though not completely dark because of the barred windows at the end of the tunnel. It wasn’t until Alex neared the end that he could hear footsteps behind him, and he slowed his steps. He’d been trained to focus in the harshest of conditions, and knew that, if he really needed to, he’d be able to afford himself a few moments of adrenaline, no matter the lack of rest.

In his condition, he knew he would only have about thirty seconds of sheer stamina, which, as he was taught, was more than enough, but he had to make the best of it.

He felt the presence approaching, reaching out towards him, the slight shift in wind around him an indicator of that much, and with a sharp inhale, he turned around, caught the culprits arm that had been stretched towards him by the wrist, and turned it so that the culprit was against the wall, Alex’s hand keeping one arm twisted backwards, his other on the man’s back, forcing him still.

“Ow, Alex!”

Alex blinked, and instantly let Michael go, stepping back. “What’re you doing, following me?”

Michael huffed, dusting off his shirt. “I had to make sure you were okay – _man_ , you really were in the army.”

Alex frowned as Michael rubbed his shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… no, wait a minute, I’m not sorry, you’re supposed to be off on your own!”

“And you’re supposed to be more than half-asleep, so I guess we’re all doing things we’re not supposed to be doing.”

“I am awake,” Alex said, rubbing his eyes. His lids were getting heavier, but he wasn’t going to let Michael see that. “Does that mean Kyle’s by himself?”

Michael huffed, dusting his shirt particularly roughly, his eyes on Alex. “Forget Kyle for a goddamn second, and tell me why I’m here. Why’d you ask for my help, Alex? Half dead, and you can still easily defend yourself –”

“I said I’m fine,” Alex said sharply, the noise from his own lips worsening the throbbing in his head.

Michael stared, then, “ **You’re a terrible liar** , you know that?”

“Was I interrupting you or something?” Alex asked, and continued making his way through the prison, eyes looking everywhere but Michael, but not really taking anything in. “Your spaceship can wait a few hours, Guerin.”

“Alright,” Michael said, “I get it, you’re pissed about me leaving, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Why are you so sure?” he snapped, halting in his steps. “How do you know that I’m not trying to keep you from finishing, that all of this isn’t just me stalling you because I really don’t want you to leave?”

Michael’s eyes searched his face, and with his voice surprisingly quiet as if he himself didn’t really believe his next words, he said, “You wouldn’t do that.”

Alex thought of the missing UFO piece in his backpack, the one he’d deliberately kept from Michael, and he stepped close enough that they were a mere few inches away from one another. “You don’t know what I’d do.”

He stared, then, “You need me here, don’t you?”

Alex swallowed, realized their proximity, and moved away. “Yeah, your powers are useful.”

“No,” Michael said, and he smiled in that way he always smiled when he knew what Alex was thinking. “You may be right. I may not know everything about you, and what you’d do to keep me on this planet, but… there’s one thing I do know for sure.”

“And what’s that?”

“That between me, and the alien, you pick me. You pick _me_ , Alex,” he said. “I was right, wasn’t I? I’m not here because you need my powers, I’m here because you need _me_. Because all of this Project Shepherd crap scares the hell out of you, and you want me to be here with you for it.”

Alex stared. He was too _tired_ to throw the ball back and forth anymore. “Would you have come? If that’s what I’d said?”

Michael’s face fell. He obviously had not been expecting Alex to tell the truth. Then, his expression turned serious, and he stepped into Alex’s space. “Running.”

Alex saw Michael’s eyes fall to his lips, and at that point, he wanted nothing more than to close the gap between them and kiss him. He inched closer, his lips barely brushing against Michael’s, when he suddenly heard a sound like the clashing of metal against metal. It was brief, but it woke Alex out of his haze, and he stepped back.

“What was that?”

Michael shook his head, also looking in the direction of the two long corridors that stretched out ahead of them. “I don’t know.”

Alex closed his eyes, his brows furrowed. He listened for another sound, and while he doubted Michael may have heard it, he himself heard a soft rustling, like something metallic was being carefully dragged across the wall or floor.

He opened his eyes. “There’s someone else here. You go that way,” he pointed at one of the corridors, “I go this way, maybe we can catch whoever it is.”

“Separate? Really?” Michael said incredulously.

“Would you rather stand here?”

“I’d rather come with you.”

“I’ll be fine, Guerin,” Alex said, clutching the straps of his backpack more firmly. “I always am.”

This time, he didn’t wait for Michael’s response before he forged on ahead down one of the corridors. Behind him, he heard Michael faintly muttering, “You really are a terrible liar.”


	159. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't act so innocent."

Michael was going to be sick. He remembered the day Isobel had introduced him and Max to Noah. He had taken on the protective brother stance, but there was nothing really threatening about the thin kid and his large glasses at the time. Always stumbling behind Isobel, stuttering and scared of everyone, even his own girlfriend. Michael remembered thinking he must’ve had some hidden ability that made him a hit with the women; he couldn’t figure out how else someone like that could’ve gotten someone like his sister.

Looking at him now, his dark hair and shirt soaked in sweat and blood, blood trickling down his forehead and dripping off his jaw onto his shirt, his black eyes staring at everyone in the room as if he was wondering which way to kill them the fastest, Michael wondered how he had ever thought of him as a friend. He had half the urge to grab this creature by the shoulders and demand to know what he’d done with the real Noah Bracken.

Michael was getting uncomfortable under Noah’s gaze, and when Michael got uncomfortable, he got angry. “What’re you looking at?”

Noah smirked in a way Michael did not think Noah knew how to smirk. “You. Everyone in here’s changed so much since the day I first met them. But you’re the same. You’re always the same, Michael.”

“Don’t talk to him,” Max said, his hard gaze on Noah. “He may not be able to get into our heads, but he’s still dangerous.”

At this, Isobel looked up from where she was sitting on the couch. Her eyes were red and puffy, wide and afraid, as if she’d seen Noah eat her husband, and was waiting for him to attack her next.

Michael clenched his fists. The idea that anybody had done this to one of his siblings angered him in a way that could end up in something flying against the room.

“I’ve never been a danger to any of you,” Noah said. “I would never hurt any of you.”

“You’re a liar,” Isobel said, her voice cracking, but strong enough at the same time to cut through the thick air of the room.

Her eyes, filled with disbelief, stared at Noah as she stood off the couch and approached him. “Every word you say is a lie, everything _about_ you is a lie. You’re a walking lie!”

“I’m everything you wanted me to be,” Noah said, though not unkindly. “I’m weaker, I let you take the reins, my entire existence has been consumed with the obsession of you. I’m the _exact_ person you’ve always wanted, and that’s why it was so easy for you to love me.”

“You’re wrong,” Isobel shook her head. “What I loved about you was your kindness, your compassion, who you were. But that person’s gone. He never even existed.”

“That person who looked out for you? Who cared about you? You and your brothers? Why do you think I did all of this, Isobel? I did it to protect you all!”

“ **Don’t act so innocent** ,” Michael said through grit teeth. “You remember how many people you’ve killed, or have you lost track of them all?”

“You killed them, and you tried to kill Liz,” Max said, his eyes dark and threatening. Michael didn’t think he’d ever seen him try so hard to hold his powers back. “You think we don’t know the kind of monster you are?”

“I was doing what I had to,” Noah said, leaning forward in his chair, his wrists bruised from how tightly the rope bound him. “To protect us. How do you think we ended up here?”

Michael’s face fell. The questions he’d spent his whole life asking, and now…

“You want to know, don’t you?” and it was only then that Michael realized Noah was staring directly at him, as if having sensed his weakness and was getting ready to pounce.

“You think we left our planet of our own accord?” He shook his head. “No, we _escaped_.”

“Escaped?” said Liz, who until that point had been silent. “What do you mean?”

“Liz,” Max warned, but Liz glanced at Michael, then Isobel, then looked at Max, and said, “We have to know.”

She turned back to Noah, the look in her eyes turning to something darker, something much more akin to loathing, and she said, “Talk. What do you know?”

Noah didn’t look like he appreciated being ordered around by a human, but at Max nudging him to speak with his gun pointed directly at him, he sighed, and said, “We were kids, and we left behind a war-torn desolate planet in search of a place to call home. Roswell was it, our _home_. I knew I wasn’t the only one, and I knew that whoever else had come with me was in terrible danger, and would always be unless I kept them safe. Kept _you_ safe.”

“Keep us safe from who?” Isobel said.

“ _Everyone_ ,” Noah said. “I couldn’t trust the human race to take care of you, and say what you want about me, but you don’t trust any of them either.” He looked to Max, “Cameron?” then to Michael, “Alex?”

Michael stepped forward, “How the hell did you –”

“I have been in your heads since the moment I laid eyes on you. I know everything there is to know – every thought, whether you know you have it or not, I know it all.”

“You’ve been controlling us,” Isobel whispered.

“No,” Noah said. “Your decisions have been your own.”

“Have they?” Liz asked this time, a tear sliding down her face. “And Rosa? You forced Isobel to kill her, the woman you claim to love. You let her live thinking her own brother was a murderer, then you watched her fall apart when she thought she was the monster.”

At this, Noah’s face tightened, and he looked away. “That was… unfortunate, but necessary. I erased her mind afterwards, every time, to make sure it never bothered her. I knew Michael and Max would keep her from finding out the truth, I’d been in their heads long enough to be sure of that.”

“I almost died because of it,” Isobel shook her head. “I was so ridden with guilt. How could you have done that to me? Why would you have done that to Rosa?”

“I had to stay out of it!” Noah said, his voice raised. “I had to stay on the outside, otherwise I was no good to anybody. And Rosa…” he clenched his jaw, “I… thought I had fallen in love with her. She seemed to understand my feelings. Roswell is a small-minded, selfish, cruel place, but since the three of you had decided on staying, I was stuck here with you. When she decided to leave, I thought it was a little unfair.”

“You killed her because you were _jealous_?” Max said.

“No,” Noah said harshly. “She’d already known too much about Isobel, had seen me draw our symbol through Isobel, and it was too much of a risk to take. If she’d ever told anyone about what she’d seen, if she ever saw the mark again and knew who had left it –”

“That’s a risk of a million to one,” Michael said. “You killed her for a – a _guess_.”

“And Jesse Manes?” Noah tilted his head, his eyes narrowed. Michael froze, and the alien pressed his lips together. “Were you justified in attacking him?” He gestured to Michael’s hand with his chin. “Especially after he’d done that?”

“He was strangling Alex,” Michael defended.

“Oh, he was doing a lot more than that,” Noah said. “I’ve been keeping tabs on everybody that’s ever entered this town, to find out who was sniffing in our direction. Alex, too, especially after finding out what he meant to you.”

Liz’s brows furrowed. “Alex?” She and Isobel looked to Michael. “What’s he talking about, what do you have to do with Alex?”

“Michael’s in love with him,” Noah said when Michael wouldn’t say a word. “He’d do anything to protect him, just like I would for Isobel and the two of you.”

Michael’s voice turned dangerously low. “ _Don’t_ compare me to you, and don’t try to drag Alex into this, you sick son of a bitch.”

But it was too late. Noah seemed to know exactly where the chink in Michael’s armor was, and he looked ready to stab right into it.

“Strangling?” Noah scoffed. “That wasn’t even the _tip_ of the iceberg. You think you saw the worst of it that day? Not even close, Michael. Not by a long shot.”

Michael shook his head. “You better shut up.”

“Wouldn’t you have done anything to keep him safe? If you’d known about all the beatings, and the whippings, and the screaming –”

“— I mean it, stop –"

“If you’d _seen_ him get thrown into walls and shoved aside like garbage by his own family, people he was stuck with. Seen him get abandoned by _everyone_ , only to be forced into a war that _broke_ him over and over and over again – wouldn’t you have burned Jesse and the rest of those assholes to the ground? For Alex?”

“ _Stop_ –”

“Wouldn’t you?!”

“I said, STOP!” Michael felt a surge of energy suddenly escape his body, and everything in the room, from the bookshelves to the tables, even Noah and his chair, had all levitated a few feet off the ground and crashed back down.

Michael panted as everyone around him regained their balance and watched him with wide eyes, all except Max who had recovered instantly, his gaze focused on Noah, his gun pointed at his face, though Michael could see that Max now had the gun pressed against Noah’s temple, looking like he was barely resisting the urge to pull the trigger.

“You would,” he finally said, his voice sure and calm. “Wouldn’t you?”

Michael swallowed and left the room, ignoring Isobel’s calls. Even as he slammed the door behind him, he could still hear Noah’s voice in his head.

_Wouldn’t you have burned Jesse and the rest of those assholes to the ground? For Alex? Wouldn’t you?_

And it terrified Michael because he didn’t want to think he was anything like Noah, that he was that kind of a monster, but even as he tried to deny it to himself, he knew that, without a doubt, if it had been for Alex, he would’ve. For Alex, he would’ve done anything.


	160. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you believe in soulmates?"

Alex smelled like maple syrup and wood. That wasn’t the first thing Michael had noticed when the two of them had decided to lie on the back of his truck and watch the stars, but he’d definitely picked up on it. The first thing, however, as they rested on opposite ends of each other, Alex’s legs crossed on the hood of the roof while Michael’s hung off the edge, their heads next to one another, was that Alex was warm.

Michael could feel the heat radiating off him, and it made him want to curl up against him, his nose nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his scent, but every time, before he could, he’d regain his senses and opt against it.

“You think there’s life out there?” Alex asked, his eyes reflecting starlight, and not for the first time that night, Michael found himself staring at _him_ instead of the sky.

They were on a hill overlooking Roswell, far enough away from all of the artificial lights that it made finding even the smallest stars easy.

“What? Aliens?” Michael tried not to scoff at the sound of the word on his lips. _What a weird concept_ , he thought. _To think of yourself as an alien._ Instead, he shrugged a shoulder. “I dunno. Some people say they’ve seen actual UFOs.”

Alex rolled his eyes and smiled. That had been the second thing Michael had noticed. _Alex had a nice smile._ Michael had never considered a person’s smile before, but with Alex, he found it was all he thought about.

“No, not that flying saucer, conspiracy theory crap. I mean, real life. You know, creatures that look like us, except maybe, I don’t know, they have bigger eyes or something.”

Michael wanted to laugh. He never thought his eyes were particularly large, or that there was anything really that separated him from everyone else. Except maybe a bigger brain, though he’d skimmed through Alex’s notebooks, and thought Alex had some high intelligence of his own. Unlike Michael though, Alex never talked about school. He didn’t even seem to care that he was smart.

“Maybe,” he said.

After a moment, Alex sighed. “Whatever, it’s probably not true anyway.”

Michael’s brows furrowed and he looked to find Alex’s expression had turned unreadable. “Don’t do that.”

He raised a brow and turned his head to Michael’s, their lips nearly brushing as he spoke, “Don’t do what? Say I don’t believe in aliens?”

“Don’t sound so… dejected, like nothing matters.”

Alex stared, then with a soft voice, he said, “I was just talking about aliens, Guerin.”

Michael shook his head. “No, you weren’t.”

Alex looked surprised, his eyes searching Michael’s before he turned back to look at the sky, but Michael never looked away. He watched Alex with a kind of warm and heavy feeling in his chest. What did he care if Alex was resigned, if he didn’t care about anything?

 _But you do_ , a small part of his mind told him; the part that had survived the shouting, the abuse, the drunks, and the religious freaks; the part that was reserved for Max and Isobel, except this… this made him angry. Max and Isobel had always been closer to each other than to Michael, he knew that much, and now, as anger began to boil in his stomach, as he thought about ripping apart whoever had pushed Alex to this point and keeping him close to his chest, safe and protected, Michael wondered if the bond between his siblings was anything like this.

“I do believe in some things,” Alex suddenly said, breaking through the raging storm already forming in Michael’s mind. “Just so you know.”

Michael swallowed, pushing those dark thoughts away. _How did Alex do that?_ he wondered. His voice was so calming, Michael wondered if maybe he wasn’t an alien himself.

“Like what?” he asked, and closed his eyes, his face still turned to Alex.

“I dunno,” he said. “ **Do you… believe in soulmates?** ”

Michael opened his eyes. Alex was focusing very intently on the stars now, but Michael could see that his cheeks had turned pink. Michael swallowed. He wanted to lean forward and kiss them; what was wrong with him?

“I, uh,” Michael was surprised to feel a lump in his throat. _Was he_ flustered _? When did he ever get flustered?_

Alex’s cheeks turned a darker shade, and he said, “Y-You don’t have to answer, it doesn’t matter, I was just –”

“I didn’t,” he said, and Alex went silent. “I kinda do now.”

A pause, then Michael heard the quietest, “Oh,” and he smiled.

Alex smiled, too, and this time, Michael didn’t hold back. He leaned over Alex and kissed him, upside down. Alex gasped into Michael’s mouth, startled, but soon regained himself and kissed him back. It was a little difficult in this position, but Michael tilted his head, nonetheless, deepening the kiss. Alex’s hands came up to hold his head in place, his fingers running through Michael’s curls, and Michael moaned. Alex’s nose ring was cool against his chin, though the rest of him was heated, and Michael found himself wanting to get closer and closer, to feel more of that warmth.

He pulled back, repositioning them so that they were lying on the same side. He hovered over Alex, and ran his hands up his shirt. Alex made a small noise at the back of his throat at the touch of Michael’s cool hands to his warm skin, and he pulled Michael further down on top of him, as if trying to protect him from the cold.

They pulled back from each other, out of breath, their foreheads rested against one another. As they panted against each other’s lips, Michael’s eyes ran over Alex’s face, and with his cheeks, nose, and lips red, his dark brows slightly furrowed, and his eyes shining, Michael wondered what the hell he was doing looking at the stars in the sky.


	161. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What if something happens to you?"

Three years. It had been three years since Alex had even heard from one of his brothers. It seemed befitting that the next time he’d see him, it would be at a military base after having disarmed him.

“I was following orders,” Flint said from the doorway where he was watching Alex pack his bag, his arms crossed.

Alex looked up, raising a brow, and his brother sighed. “I didn’t know it was you.”

_Sure you didn’t_ , he almost said, but settled for a scoff and resumed packing without a word.

“So this is it?” Flint said. “Three years, and not even a, _‘Hello, Flint’_ , or, _‘I missed you, bro’_?”

“I didn’t,” Alex said matter-of-factly, though he didn’t lift his head. “Three years was not a long enough time, Flint.”

“ _Alex_ ,” Flint repeated, and Alex closed his eyes. “Stop acting like a child. I get it, okay? This suicide mission of yours, it’s to get back at me –”

“Get _back_ at you?”

“You want to act like this is for your friends, or for dad, go ahead,” Flint said as he approached Alex, kneeling in front of him, “but if this is your idea of one-upping me or something –”

“This isn’t for revenge, this sure as hell isn’t for dad, and I don’t have to prove a damn thing to you,” Alex said, and shut his bag roughly. He stood, ignoring the sting in his leg. “This mission needs someone to go into the Caulfield solitary floor, and retrieve whatever technology your computers are detecting, right? Get in, get out. It’s a simple enough job –”

“That _anyone else_ can do!” Flint said. “Why are you volunteering? That floor is on the brink of caving in, if you get stuck –”

“I’ll be fine,” Alex said, hanging the bag on his shoulders. “Look, you can’t send in an entire team, not with the walls that thin, and I’m the only one that knows what to look for.”

Flint looked to the door like he expected someone to be watching them. “How _do_ you know what alien technology looks like?”

Alex scoffed. “Your commander agreed that I be allowed to keep my sources to myself. I help you, you stay out of my business, and I walk away afterwards with _no_ questions. I didn’t tell him, you think I’m going to tell _you_?”

“I’m your _brother_ ,” Flint said.

He narrowed his eyes, and stepped closer. “What do you want, Flint? Since when are you so worried about me?”

Flint’s face hardened. “I’ve _always_ been worried about you. You didn’t want to see it because you just love to be the victim, Alex, but I’ve always looked out for you.”

“Oh, yeah,” Alex laughed without humor. “ _Join the force, or he’ll never stop!_ Looking out for me? Are you kidding?”

His brother stepped back, pinching the bridge of his nose, and sighed, “What dad did, he only did to make you stronger. You still don’t get that.”

Alex shook his head. His eyes burned, and a lump formed in his throat, but he pushed it down. _He would not cry, not in front of_ him _._ He promised himself a long time ago that he would never cry in front of any of them.

“Oh my G – _he’s not here_ , Flint, why are you defending him?”

“Because if he hadn’t done what he’d done, where do you think you’d be? Stuck in Roswell, some outcast because – why? Because you got confused when you were a teenager, a-and thought you were in love with a…” Flint turned away, a look of disgust on his face.

When he looked back at Alex, his expression had cleared, replaced by something calmer, though no less condescending as he held his chin higher. “I’m not going to let you get yourself killed because of pride. You’re going to go back in there, apologize profusely, and tell them that your leg has spasmed, and that you can’t do this.”

Alex clenched his jaw. “That’s not going to happen,” and he moved past his brother only to have his arm grabbed roughly. A decade ago, he would’ve flinched. Now, his brain automatically calculated exactly how hard he would have to turn his brother’s wrist so that he was writhing in pain on the floor.

“Stop being stubborn, and do as you’re told, _soldier_.”

Alex took a deep breath, and just before he moved to wrench his brother’s hand off him, someone said, “Alex, you okay?”

It was Michael, his stance as he leaned against the doorframe cool and unbothered, but he was glaring at Alex’s brother, and the hand on his arm as if he was two seconds away from tearing it off with his powers.

Alex used his brother’s momentary distraction to pull himself free, and he looked Flint directly in the eyes. “Yeah. Flint was just wishing me luck. Right, bro?”

Flint stuck his tongue in his cheek, the way he always did when he was upset everyone wasn’t following his orders, and he looked from Alex to Michael angrily before he made his way to the door.

Kyle came in as Flint was leaving, and the moment he saw him, he stopped, his expression turned hard.

“Kyle,” Flint greeted curtly.

Kyle nodded once in response, just as cold. The moment Flint stepped out, he sighed, shaking his head. “My God, he hasn’t changed at all.” He looked to Alex, his gaze softening. “Are you okay?”

_No, not really._

“Yeah,” Alex said, and glanced at Michael who was watching Kyle with no less aggression. He supposed it didn’t make him feel great to know that Kyle had been his best friend once, and knew more about him than he could tell.

“You sure you should be doing this?” Michael asked, clearly wanting to change the subject. “It’s safer for me to go.”

“I second that,” Kyle said, and Michael glared at him. “Alex, it’s too dangerous. Let someone else go.”

“I have to be the one to do it,” Alex said, then looked around the room. This was a changing room, so there shouldn’t have been any cameras, but he gestured for the both of them to get closer anyway, and lowered his voice. “If it really is another piece of alien technology, or another piece of the spaceship, we can’t let them have it. Jim Valenti obviously meant for us to find it, which means it’s somehow connected to whatever happened to him.”

“But why not let _me_ go?” Michael said, stepping closer. “I’m the one with the powers.”

“The out-of-control powers?” Kyle raised a brow. “Gee, I wonder.”

“Hey, Valenti, the grownups are talking now, okay? This is real, not your dad’s little math equations.”

“Oh, good, for a second I was worried you’d matured, but thankfully, you’re still a raging dick.”

Alex, suddenly too tired to get angry, did the only thing he could; he laughed. It was tired, and brief, but it was still a laugh, and it eased the weight in his chest. The two stopped arguing, and looked to him in surprise. “Even now, you guys still can’t shut it off. It’s kind of reassuring.”

The two glanced at each other, then back at Alex, their expressions softening into something more like concern.

He shook his head. “I will be okay, I promise. As soon as I find this tech, I’ll pour that yellow pollen that Noah used to dampen your powers, and it should keep it from being detected on the screens upstairs. Guerin, when the signal is gone, wait a few seconds, then use your powers to make the floor collapse.”

“I already said,” Michael stepped closer, “I’m _not_ bringing those rooms down with you still inside.”

“I’m qualified enough to get myself out, don’t worry,” Alex said, and at his hesitance, he sighed. “Guerin, you _have_ to. If you don’t, they’ll know I took it, but if the floor collapses before I’m in the clear –”

“They’ll think it was an accident,” Kyle finished. “The room’s expected to break apart any day now. They know there’s a high chance of an accident.”

“Which is why they’ve been so hesitant to send anybody down there,” Alex nodded. “But I’ve done this stuff before, worse, and I’ve gotten out.”

“But your leg –”

“As far as they’re concerned, it’s my choice, and my leg is just my problem. If anything happens to me, they’re freed of any liability – Guerin, _I’m sorry_ , but that’s just how it is, okay?”

Michael pursed his lips, and stepped close enough that he was all Alex could see. For a moment, Alex noticed his shields falling, and he caught note of how nervous Michael really was.

“Alex,” he said, his voice low, “ **what if something happens to you?** ”

And Alex could somehow hear the silent message; _Yes, I get it, you’re brave, you can do this, but_ what if something happens _?_

He smiled. “Then something happens,” he subtly stretched his fingers out so that they took hold of Michael’s, and right away, he let go and stepped back, looking to the both of them. “And I know you guys will be there to pull me out.”

The two blinked, surprised, and with another glance at each other, they nodded once to Alex, promising him that they were behind him, no matter what. With another reassuring nod to Michael, Alex took a deep breath and walked out.


	162. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you sure about this?"

_What am I doing?_ Michael rubbed his hands up and down his jeans as he stared at Alex’s cabin door. He was struggling to recall how he’d ended up here – something about Valenti, and _his cabin_ , and Michael had lost all coherent thought. As soon as he found out from Liz where Alex was staying, he’d raced here.

Now, however, he realized how dumb of an idea that was. He’d turned himself into a stalker, one who couldn’t even gather up the nerve to knock on the door. _What am I doing?_

He stepped back, fully prepared to hurry back to his truck and leave before anyone noticed he was there, when a picture of Kyle and Alex together flashed in his mind, and he froze to the spot. This was supposed to be Kyle Valenti’s cabin, and Alex was living there, which could’ve only meant…

Unable to stop himself, Michael surged forward, rapped the door, and managed to keep position for all of one second before he was stepping back again, shaking his head, his eyes closed.

This was ridiculous. What was it his business if Alex was sleeping with Kyle? It wasn’t as if Michael was the model of moral high ground, and Alex had the right to have sex with whoever he wanted.

Michael looked up, and saw with no real amount of surprise that his truck was hovering a few feet above the ground. He sighed, and it fell with a heavy _thump_ at the same time that a voice behind him called –

“Guerin?”

“Damn it,” he slowly turned around to see Alex staring at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows. He raised an awkward hand. “Hey.”

Alex blinked. “H-Hi. What, uh – what’re you doing here?”

Michael approached the door, trying to look at everything but Alex, and failing miserably. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Alex in a regular t-shirt and sweatpants, but he looked _good_.

“I,” Michael slowly started, and realized with growing horror that he hadn’t bothered to make up any reason on his way here. What would he say? _I found out you were living at Valenti’s place, and I freaked out?_

Finally, Michael cleared his throat, and – _very stupidly_ , in retrospect – said the first thing to come to mind. “I’m here to deliver something.”

Alex frowned. “Deliver something?”

“Yeah,” Michael nodded as he moved backwards, his eyes and nervous smile on Alex. “Uh, it’s in my truck, just… I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

Michael let his expression turn to half-panic as he quickly rummaged around the front seats for something he could pass off as useful. When he came back to the door, he outstretched his hand to an expectant Alex, and gave him a chocolate bar.

Alex looked at the candy in surprise, then up at Michael with curious eyes. Michael chuckled. “Food,” he said. “Yeah, you should be thanking me. Liz has been so worried about you that she very nearly rushed over here to force you into a break. I practically had to race her to the door.”

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , his brain scolded as he waited with bated breath for Alex’s reaction, and to his relief, Alex’s expression turned from confusion to realization to guilt, and he slumped against the doorframe.

“Right,” Alex said, though it seemed like he was reprimanding himself more than talking to Michael. “I was supposed to call her.”

“You were?” At Alex’s raised brow, Michael nodded gravely, “You were.”

“God, I completely forgot,” Alex rubbed his eyes, and it was only then that Michael realized how _tired_ he looked. He ran a hand through his windswept hair, and Michael resisted the urge to reach out and touch the soft brown strands.

A light flickered on and off behind Alex suddenly, and Alex hung his head and sighed. “Not again…”

Michael narrowed his eyes over Alex’s shoulder at the flickering light. “You got a loose bulb?”

Alex shook his head, looking into his living room. Michael took the chance to sneak a glance at him, and realized that Alex didn’t just look tired, he looked _exhausted_.

“I have no idea, it’s been doing that for the past two days,” he said. “Kyle said he’d come by tonight and take a look at it.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll fix it.”

Michael stared. “Kyle’s supposed to come? Here?”

Alex frowned. “That’s what I just said – are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m great,” Michael said, fully aware that he did not sound _great_. Even to his own ears, he heard the barely controlled rage, the way his words came out curt and sarcastic. “Why _wouldn’t_ Kyle come here? It’s his cabin, right?”

Michael knew it was silly and petty, and the quiet rational part of his brain warned him of as much, but the sound of those warnings were drowned out by the much louder, angrier parts that couldn’t understand how the _hell_ Kyle Valenti thought he was allowed anywhere near Alex, and how Alex could’ve accepted him into his life in the first place.

He was just about to go off on Alex about it when the other man frowned, crossed his arms, and said, “No, it isn’t. It’s mine.”

Michael went still, the angry voices gone in an instant. “What?”

“It’s my cabin,” Alex said. “Jim Valenti left it to me in his will.”

“ _Jim_ Valenti?” Michael’s brows furrowed. “Is that supposed to be –”

“Kyle’s dad,” Alex nodded.

Michael frowned. “Why would Kyle’s dad leave you the cabin, and not Kyle?”

Alex tilted his head and for a moment said nothing, then, “Sorry, why did you think this was Kyle’s cabin?”

“What?”

“You thought this was Kyle’s cabin, but why?”

Michael looked around. “You said so.”

“No, I didn’t.” Alex narrowed his eyes, and Michael could’ve sworn he saw the beginnings of an amused smirk play at his lips. “Did someone tell you? Is that why you volunteered to come?”

“Look, do you need help fixing your lights, or not?” Michael snapped and went past Alex inside.

“Whoa, Guerin, wait,” Alex said. “Have you ever fixed lights before?”

“I fix things, Alex, that’s my whole job,” Michael said, and stood in the center of the living room, pretending to look up at the lightbulb as he took the room in. It was neat – _not so surprising_ , Michael thought, _since order had been drilled into Alex for the past decade_ – everything tucked away into place, a few folded clothes and socks on the couch. Michael tried to imagine Alex, the strong military man, doing laundry, and the thought brought a small smile to his lips, though he didn’t know why.

“You’re a mechanic,” Alex said, his hand on Michael’s arm. “This is electricity, they’re very different.”

“It’ll be fine,” Michael said, unable to help but glance at Alex as he pulled his hand away. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You short-circuit the fuse,” Alex said like it was obvious, “start a fire, electrocute yourself –”

“Have you always been this worried about everything?” Michael raised a brow.

“You pick up a few things when other people’s lives are in your hands,” Alex said dryly. “Look, why don’t you just sit down, and I’ll get us a few beers or something. Kyle’s dealt with faulty wires at his place a hundred times before, I think it’s safer to just wait for him.”

“If he’s dealt with it a hundred times, I’m gonna take a stab and say he’s not as wonderful at it as you think he is, Alex,” Michael said. “Besides…”

 _Besides, I don’t trust him to do a good enough job, I don’t trust him to keep you safe, and I really,_ really _can’t stand the idea of you needing him for anything, not when I’m here._

“I’m already here anyway,” he said, fully aware that Alex was searching his face, trying to understand why he was being so stubborn. Michael hoped he did a good enough job at hiding it, and if Alex had noticed anything, he didn’t comment. Still, his expression turned soft as he nodded.

“Okay,” he said, sounding resigned, like he knew Michael’s mind was set and he wouldn’t change it. “Let me get you a chair or something.”

Mechanics and electricity, as it turned out, really were a bit different, though Michael refused to tell Alex that.

“ **Are you sure about this?** ” Alex asked from where he was holding onto the chair that Michael was standing on, looking up at Michael with concern. “No one’s going to think less of you if you back out now.”

Michael chuckled. “I will.”

“Yeah, so will I,” Alex said, and the two burst into laughter. _It felt weird_ , Michael thought, _laughing with Alex._ It felt like forever had gone by since he’d last seen Alex laugh, but he couldn’t help but feel like the flutter in his chest was stronger than it had been back then.

“You okay?” Alex asked when Michael had turned silent, and Michael saw him, _really_ saw him. His rumpled hair and casual clothes, his dark eyes still filled with hope after all of these years as if he was constantly waiting for something good to happen, his rosy cheeks and ruffled hair… and he smiled softly.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Alex smiled in return and nodded. It took Michael another few minutes, but was once he realized that one of the sockets wasn’t working because of a faulty wire, and screwed the lightbulb into the one beside it instead, there was light.

“Hey, you did it,” Alex said.

“Okay, well, don’t sound _too_ surprised,” Michael rolled his eyes. “You still need to replace your lamp though. That loose wire’s a hazard.” As he dusted his hands off, he said, “I’ll get you a new one tomorrow.”

“Oh, no, you really don’t have to,” Alex said. “There’s a storage room with, I think, a small chandelier in there. I’ll just use that.”

Michael nodded. “Okay. Coming down, then.” But just as Michael said that, his foot slipped, and he fell to the ground, taking Alex with him.

“Ow,” Alex winced as his whole body stiffened underneath Michael. “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow –”

“ _Crap_ , Alex,” Michael realized he’d crushed Alex’s damaged leg and all but jumped off. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he quickly said, as if, _I’m okay_ , was his default.

“You’re not okay,” Michael huffed, and helped him onto the couch. “Should we go to the hospital? Let’s go to the hospital, I’ll take you right now, come on –”

“Guerin, I’m fine,” Alex said, waving him off with one trembling hand, his other massaging his thigh. “It’s okay, I just – I need a second.”

Michael watched with a tight chest as Alex’s breathing turned from shallow and quick to deep and slow, the look of pain on his face faded to calm, and all the while, Michael rubbed his back soothingly, not knowing what else he could do.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I could’ve seriously hurt you –”

“Guerin,” Alex said softly, and the words caught in Michael’s throat. “Don’t be sorry.”

Michael stared, then realized he was still rubbing Alex’s back. He should’ve pulled away, excused himself to leave, but he kept touching Alex, unable to stop. He scooted closer so that Alex was practically sitting in between his legs. And they sat there, in silence, as Alex continued to massage his leg and Michael continued to rub his back, and all the while, Michael stared at Alex, because only in this place, this place that was so inherently _Alex_ , that carried the scent and trace of him in every corner, did Michael feel like he could.


	163. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I gotta say, I'm a little surprised."

Alex was hot. Michael couldn’t believe how _hot_ he was, he just – he always stood out in a room, always turned everyone’s heads, man or woman. Even in a crowded bar like this, Alex’s voice cut through the noise, and Michael felt utterly soothed. Alex was Michael’s _boyfriend_. His boyfriend. What a lucky bastard he was. He said as much to Alex, leaning in close, and Alex laughed, though he didn’t move away.

Michael smiled, resting his forehead against Alex’s shoulder, his arm coming around his waist to pull him close. A few months ago, Alex would’ve been hesitant to so much as _look_ at Michael in public, and while Michael had come to understand that Alex had a good reason to be afraid, it still killed him to think of those moments, the times he truly believed he would never have Alex the way he wanted him.

But he was his now, and Michael would never let him go again. Alex didn’t seem to mind as he hugged Michael’s shoulders with one arm, pressing his lips to Michael’s hair.

“You smell nice,” Michael said, moving a leg in between Alex’s to get closer. “Have I ever told you that?”

“Someone’s drunk,” Alex said, and Michael felt his hand slide from his back into his curls, softly raking his fingers through them. He hummed contentedly into Alex’s neck. “I think you’ve had enough, Guerin.”

Michael hummed and peeked an eye at their drinks. They each had a bottle in their other hand, but while Michael was drunk on his third, Alex was already on his fifth.

He sat up, though he kept his hold on Alex’s waist, and his brows furrowed. “That’s a lot of drinks, but… you don’t seem… _nearly_ as drunk as me. As I? As me? Pretty sure it’s ‘as me.’”

“Oh, yeah,” Alex said, looking at his bottles like he hadn’t realized he’d gone through so many again. The thought would’ve sobered Michael up if he hadn’t had so much alcohol running through his system, and he hadn’t been so close to Alex that he inhaled his scent every time he took a breath.

“You have a high tolerance,” Michael said, slumping against him. “Definitely higher than mine.”

Alex blinked, like he never really thought about it before. “I guess I do.” He lifted the bottle and said, “I think I’m starting to feel something now though.”

Michael adjusted his seat so that he could properly rest his weight on Alex, his cheek against his shoulder, his nose nuzzled against his neck. He knew this was not the proper place to get comfortable, but he also knew he was too drunk to care, and Alex was warm and smelled nice and he had powers to blow apart anyone that would give them a bad eye anyway.

“ **I gotta say, I’m a little surprised** ,” Michael said. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Alex leaned back enough to see Michael’s face, his eyebrow raised. “You sound impressed.”

“Impressed,” Michael agreed. “Turned on – I’m feeling a lot right now.”

Alex laughed, the sound echoing in his chest, and Michael brought one hand to place over Alex’s heart, the vibration tingling through his fingertips and spreading throughout the rest of his body. _Man,_ Alex had a nice laugh. And he was hot. _So_ hot. Had he told him that yet?

“Okay,” Alex said with a smile, setting his bottle down and plucking Michael’s out of his hand, “I’m just going to take this away from you now.”

Michael watched with a lazy pout as Alex set the bottles aside and paid for their drinks. The next thing he knew, he was rubbing a hand up and down Michael’s back. “You ready to head back?”

He tilted his head at Alex. “You know you always look like your blushing? It’s really cute.”

Alex looked like he was trying not to smile. He sighed, his gaze undeniably fond. “Yeah,” he said, “you’re ready.”

“It’s sexy, too,” Michael said, his voice low, and he slipped a hand up Alex’s shirt. “You sure you’re not drunk?”

Alex gasped, pulling Michael’s hand out. Michael saw him swallow, his eyes focused on him. “D-Don’t do that, not here.”

“Oh? Then where?” Michael teased, and grazed Alex’s clothed cock with his fingers. “Here?”

“Okay,” Alex’s gaze turned dark and he leaned in close enough to Michael that their lips were inches apart. “We really need to leave now.”

Michael licked his lips, his heart already racing as he felt Alex’s warm breath fan his lips. “No, we really need to have sex. Like, _right now_.”

“I’m not having sex in a bar,” Alex said, and moved off his stool. Michael barely started to whine before Alex was at his side, tugging on his arm. “Come on.”

Michael shook his head, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist and pulling him in between his legs. Even in his drunken state, he was fully aware others were starting to watch them, and he felt a twinge of jealousy in his chest. He didn’t want anyone else watching Alex, enjoying the sight of him, but –

“The trailer and cabin are too far,” he said, his hands coming around to run up and down Alex’s chest. He wanted so badly to run his fingers down Alex’s belt. “I can’t wait until we make it back.”

Alex gave up trying to pull Michael off the stool. He huffed, frustrated, and took Michael’s face in his hands, kissing him roughly. Michael inhaled sharply, and was soon pulling Alex’s body in against his. Audience be damned, he was about to start unbuttoning Alex’s shirt when Alex pulled back, his forehead against Michael’s.

“We’re both drunk, we can’t drive back,” Alex said, and tugged at Michael’s lower lip with his teeth.

Michael moaned quietly enough that only the two of them could hear. “So, what then? Cab?”

Alex licked his lower lip, searching Michael’s face, his eyes running down his body, and he shook his head. “Your truck’s parked in the back, right?”

Michael’s eyes widened. Without another word, he took Alex’s hand in his, and they were rushing out the bar and to the back parking lot. Michael’s truck was in an open space, engulfed in darkness, and Michael, in his eagerness, used his powers to drag it closer as he and Alex made their way towards it.

As soon as it was close enough, Michael turned Alex and pinned him against the driver’s door, attacking his lips instantly. He felt Alex’s hands run up and down his sides beneath his jacket, the heat of Alex’s body warming him even through their clothes, the scent of Alex surrounding him, keeping him safe.

He kissed Alex’s chest, unbuttoning his shirt the further down he went. He felt Alex’s heart thrashing wildly, and for a moment, he paused, breathing heavily over it.

He loved him, he loved him, he _loved_ him. So much it was almost painful. He told Alex this, and the private smiled fondly, his thumbs caressing Michael’s cheeks.

Alex was drunk, there was no mistaking that, but the way he looked at Michael now, his eyes glittering as if Michael was the most precious treasure he’d ever seen, Michael knew it didn’t matter. Alex was Alex, drunk or sober, and – _drunk or sober_ – Michael loved him. He just _loved_ him.


	164. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm not a child!"

_Three hours._ Three hours since Alex had come to see Michael, three hours since he’d sat down on the one of the chairs in front of the dimmed bonfire, three hours since he’d been hearing a succession of angry shouts, followed by moments of pin-drop silence, and then more screaming, all coming from inside the trailer.

Alex’s hands turned red from where he’d been digging his nails in. Seven times already, he got as close as his hand raised in a fist, ready to knock on the door, or command that Michael stop causing whatever havoc he was causing to his home, and get some fresh air. But every time, it got too loud or too quiet, and Alex decided the best place for him was right outside, waiting.

By the time the fifth hour had come around, the sky had darkened, and the trailer had gone back to a state of complete quiet. Alex pulled his jacket closer around himself when he heard a faint shuffling, and the next thing he knew, the trailer’s front door burst open.

Michael stumbled down the step, holding a bottle of some kind of drink. His eyes were red and puffy, but dry, his hair a mess, and despite the cold, all he wore with his jeans was a white t-shirt. He wiped his face with one hand, and spotted Alex. Alex stayed frozen to the spot as Michael eyed him, and he couldn’t help but wonder what the cowboy was going to do next. Was he going to go back inside?

Alex was already working out in his head whether or not he’d be able to get the bonfire to work for the night when Michael trudged past him and took the opposing chair. He leaned back, taking a big swig of his bottle, and Alex tried not to wince at the strong smell of alcohol.

“How much of that have you had?”

Michael didn’t respond, though his eyes stayed on Alex. He tilted his head. “You’re still here.”

Alex nodded.

He took another swig and Alex frowned. “Guerin, come on…”

Michael swallowed slowly, his eyes boring into Alex’s deliberately. “ _What_?”

“You’ve had enough.”

“Have I? Any other pointers?”

Alex sighed, and moved to stand, intending to take the bottle from Michael himself, but when he tried to put weight on his leg, an intense pain shot through, forcing him down.

He tried to school his features, and leaned back in the chair as if his right leg wasn’t aching. When he looked up, he saw Michael watching him carefully, his expression unreadable.

“Do you feel better?” Alex asked. “Did the screaming help?”

“Why are you here, Alex?”

Alex shrugged. “Where else would I be?”

“If this is because you feel guilty or something —"

“Guilty for what? I didn’t do anything.”

“You dragged me there in the first place,” Michael said, and Alex noticed his fingers turn white as he tightened his hold on his bottle. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have known about… I wouldn’t have known. This is your fault, Alex.”

Alex stared, then nodded, pushing away the sting in his eyes and the stab in his chest. “Okay,” he said, cursing the way his voice cracked. “Okay… you’re drunk and angry, and you need a punching bag. Fine, Guerin, I’ll be your punching bag.”

“You know I hate you, right?” he said, as if the words had been waiting on his tongue. “I hate everything about you. I hate your eyes, your lips, your hair – I hate that you’re smart, because you’re too smart for your own good, Private. I hate that you’re nice, because it makes me feel like I’m _not allowed_ to hurt you, even though that’s all I wanna do.”

He leaned forward. “I wanna _hurt_ you, Alex. I wanna make you cry, and I wanna make you hate me… so it gets easier to hate you.”

A tear ran down Alex’s cheek despite himself and he wiped it away quickly, making it look like he was rubbing his face. Michael followed his hand, staring at it for a moment before his eyes came back up to Alex’s face.

“It was for you, you know,” he said, quieter. “Even if she’d told me to run, I wouldn’t have done it. But because you just _had_ to be there, because you just wouldn’t _leave me alone_.”

“I won’t lose you,” Alex said, unable to help himself. “And I won’t be sorry for being the reason you’re alive.”

“I didn’t _want_ to live –”

“I don’t care!” Alex snapped. “You think life’s tough? Deal with it, like the rest of us! When it gets too tough, that’s what _I’m_ here for! That’s what _Max_ is for, and Isobel.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “You lost your mom, and I’m – I’m sorry, Guerin, okay? I’m sorry. But you didn’t lose your family.”

“Stop it,” Michael said through grit teeth, his eyes shut tight. Alex saw him close his injured hand into a fist, the pain of it evident on his face, as if he was trying to remind himself of something – a past lesson.

“Stop what?” Alex asked desperately.

“This! Forcing yourself to look out for me out of guilt – **I’m not a child!** I don’t need you to comfort me, Alex, that’s not your job!”

Alex narrowed his eyes, realization dawning. “You’re talking about your hand, aren’t you? You know I blame myself for that, and you – what, you think I’m trying to punish myself for it by taking care of you?”

Michael clenched his jaw. “I don’t want you taking care of me –”

“Well, I’m going to,” Alex promised, and for a moment, he could see Michael’s armor fall, the look of fear behind the wall of alcoholic rage and despair. “You’re not pushing me away, Guerin, not this time. Not ever again.”

Michael shook his head. _Just a little longer_ , Alex thought, his fists shaking. _A little longer, and I can get through to him._ “Stop pretending to care about me, pretending to love me –”

“Why else would I be here, Guerin? Why else would I keep coming back?” He shook his head, his eyes filled with tears, a lump in his throat. “Of course, I love –”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Michael tossed the bottle around, the contents dripping down his fingers and wrist. “Don’t say it.”

Alex swallowed. “I love you, Guerin.”

Michael stared, his eyes wide. He stood. “No.”

“I love you,” Alex pushed, leaning forward despite the pain. “I’ve always loved you.”

“No, you don’t!” Michael threw the bottle roughly on the ground, sending glass shards everywhere, but he barely flinched. “Stop saying that.”

Michael looked angrier than Alex had ever seen him, but Alex wasn’t afraid. This was Michael. Michael would never hurt him.

Another tear slid down his cheek, but this time he made no move to wipe it away. All he could feel was his heart hammering so strongly that he felt the echo of its beat throughout his entire body, until all he knew to say was, “I love you, Guerin.”

Michael stepped towards him. “Stop it, Alex!”

“I love you so much, it terrifies me,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ve never been able to love anyone the way I love you.”

“I mean it, Alex, _stop_!”

He shook his head. “As angry as you get, you’d never hurt me. I know that. I know you’d never hate me either, Guerin, no matter what. That’s why you’re so scared now, isn’t it?”

“Stop –”

“Because you love me, too,” Alex said and moved to stand, but before he could, Michael caged him in, and he fell back down.

Michael’s eyes were searching Alex’s face, his brows furrowed, his eyes filled with unshed tears. “Why?” he breathed. “Why won’t you just give up?”

“On you?” Alex shook his head. “Never.”

“I hurt you,” Michael said, and his eyes dropped to the injured leg that Alex was gripping tightly. “I can’t – I can’t protect you, I’m useless –”

Alex held his face in his hands, and Michael met him halfway, their foreheads rested together. “You are _everything_ to me.”

“N-No, I –”

But Alex wouldn’t let him finish. He pushed through the pain and raised himself high enough to take Michael’s lips in his own. He instantly tasted vodka, but tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Michael was frozen in shock for the first few seconds, but as Alex wrapped his arms around his shoulders, he moaned, and leaned down, devouring Alex’s mouth over and over again.

For what felt like an hour, Alex and Michael pressed harder against one another, each deepening the kiss as much as they could, their tongues battling, their hands touching whatever they could reach. Alex’s ran up and down Michael’s back, while Michael’s touched Alex’s jaw, his neck, his collarbone – whatever piece of skin he could find.

It was when Michael’s leg pressed against Alex’s knee that Alex separated, unable to help but wince.

“What – What’s wrong?” Michael panted, his lips red and swollen, his cheeks flushed, his eyes dazed – just as Alex looked.

“My leg,” Alex said, massaging his leg with his hand.

Michael blinked, and Alex watched as guilt dawned on his face. “Damn, sorry.”

“What’re you apologizing for? I’ve been putting a lot of strain on it lately, that’s on me.”

Michael moved to Alex’s side, kneeling beside him. “Especially today, right? I’m guessing waiting in the cold for hours didn’t help.”

Alex swallowed as Michael took his arm and put it over his shoulders. “I didn’t mind waiting.”

Michael helped Alex stand to his feet, and he stopped, debating something in his head. Finally, he seemed to give up because his eyes closed, and he said, “Say it again.”

“Say what?”

Michael glanced at Alex’s lips, and leaned forward, kissing him in a way that didn’t seem like a drunk’s kiss. This one was slow, pleading. This was the kiss of someone who never wanted to let go. And just like that, Alex knew exactly what Michael wanted.

Michael pulled away, but Alex still had his eyes closed as he breathed the words, “I love you, Guerin. I love you.”

Michael exhaled deeply, nuzzling his nose against Alex’s cheek, just barely pressing his lips against the corner of Alex’s.

“Again,” he breathed.

“I love you,” he managed to say before Michael captured his lips in his and kissed him softly.

“Again.”

Alex wrapped both arms around Michael’s shoulders while Michael’s arms went around his waist, keeping most of the weight off his legs. “I love you, I love you, I _love_ you.”

Michael moaned as he kissed Alex again, deepening it instantly. When he pulled back, both their lips were slick with spit.

“Ag –”

But Michael didn’t have a chance to ask again because Alex pulled him flush against him and kissed him senseless. The two held onto each other, and as Michael’s cold hands, now sticky from the vodka, went underneath Alex’s shirt, their lips melding perfectly together as they moaned into each other’s mouths, Alex’s warmth a delicious contradiction to Michael’s cool, Alex thought it wouldn’t be so bad if they went inside a little later. He wasn’t that cold anyway.


	165. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm screwed."

Michael stretched in his sleep, and felt his arm hit something warm. He peeked an eye open, and found Alex lying on his side, naked and sound asleep. He smiled, and leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on the private’s shoulder, then his arm before lying back down. He had his arms folded on his stomach, the bed was warm, sunlight seeping in through the gap in the curtains, but he found himself unwilling to go back to sleep.

Alex usually had his brows furrowed like he was constantly remembering something miserable, his shoulders straight as if he thought he was supposed to formally address everyone, his lips set in a straight line as if he didn’t think he was allowed to smile. But now, he looked at peace. Michael softly grazed his cheek with his fingers, the corners of his lips tugging upwards at the warmth in them.

He ran his hand down Alex’s arm, his back, shivering at the soft skin. He moved closer to Alex, and kissed down his arm, then his chest. He nuzzled against Alex’s stomach, his hands reaching up to feel Alex’s shoulder blades, his spine, his waist.

He came back up to kiss Alex’s lips, and rested their foreheads together, listening to the quiet sound of Alex’s steady breathing.

“ **I’m screwed** , aren’t I?” Michael whispered, and lazily kissed Alex’s lips again.

He felt hands come up his arms and settle on his shoulders, gently pushing him away. Alex whined groggily. “Stop, I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

“I don’t care,” Michael muttered against his lips, and held Alex’s face in place as he deepened the kiss.

Alex moaned seemingly despite himself, and Michael took the opportunity to move them around so that he was hovering over Alex, in between his legs.

He leaned down, grinding his cock into Alex’s, their chests pressed together. The two moaned, and Alex’s hands went from Michael’s shoulders to his waist as he pulled him further down.

“A-Ah,” Michael moaned, and grinded into Alex again, his eyes closed. “Y-You feel so…”

_Good, incredible, phenomenal…_ there were no words good enough to describe Alex, Michael realized. Nothing to describe the electric shock that went through his body at a single touch of Alex’s fingers, the way his heart raced whenever Alex’s eyes caught his, when Alex kissed him, held him, _touched_ him.

He caught Alex’s lips in an open mouth kiss, Alex’s hands going from his waist, to his back, to his chest. His fingers ran through Michael’s chest hair, rubbing his nipples, and Michael groaned into his mouth. He pulled back, panting, and moved further down. He pressed his stomach into Alex’s already hardened cock, and sucked his nipples, roughly biting the skin, leaving Alex writhing beneath him.

“Guerin,” Alex breathed, his hands in Michael’s hair. “Kiss me.”

Michael looked up. Alex’s eyes were pleading, begging him to get closer, and with a whispered curse, he moved back up and roughly captured Alex’s lips, the two fitting together perfectly as their hard cocks grinded against one another.

Michael spread Alex’s legs further apart, his thrusts becoming frantic as he pressed harder and harder into Alex. Alex came a split second before Michael did, but Michael didn’t stop thrusting until the oversensitivity became too much to bear, and he fell on his back beside Alex. The trailer was quiet save for their panting, and Michael looked over at Alex, his chest falling and rising with every breath, his eyes filled with golden specks as they reflected the sunlight, the dark blush on his cheeks and nose a stark contrast against the bland color of the sheets – like he was some kind of ruby on the cement, making everything beautiful just by existing in that space.

“Yep,” Michael muttered to himself, his eyes on Alex. “Totally screwed.”

“What?” Alex looked over at him.

Michael smiled and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.” And Michael thought it really, honestly didn’t.


	166. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You called me, remember?"

Alex got to the Wild Pony, his eyes already scanning the room for one person. He found Michael easily at the bar and hurried over, the cowboy’s forehead rested on the table.

“What’s wrong?” he breathed. “What happened?”

Michael didn’t respond for a while, and Alex came closer, putting his hand on his back. “Guerin, are you okay?”

“Why do you sound out of breath?” Michael groaned. “Have you been running? You shouldn’t be running with that leg.”

“Why – are you kidding? **You called me, remember?** You said it was an emergency, Guerin, _life or death_.”

“Well, how else was I supposed to guarantee you’d come quickly?”

Alex shook his head, his shoulders slumped. He sighed, and took the stool beside Michael, wincing at the pain in his leg. He really _shouldn’t_ have run.

When he looked at Michael, he saw him watching him, and he waved it off. “I’m fine. Why’d you call me then, if nothing’s wrong?”

“I didn’t say nothing was wrong,” Michael sighed dramatically. “I said I needed you here quickly.”

Alex raised a brow. “How drunk are you?”

Michael looked like he was thinking about it, but his eyes were half-lidded as if he was trying hard to stay awake, his cheeks flushed, and Alex realized he already knew the answer. “I dunno. Like… I dunno.”

“How much have you had?”

He shrugged. “Lost track.”

“Lost track,” Alex muttered, and gently moved a curl back from Michael’s temple, raking his fingers through his hair. “You look sick, Guerin.”

Michael pouted. “And here I was about to tell you how beautiful you look. Guess that makes me the better boyfriend, huh?”

Alex looked at him and swallowed. Michael was definitely drunk if he could use that word so easily. They hadn’t settled things for long, and they were still skirting the _boyfriends_ domain, afraid to push one another. Alex, in reality, had been dying to hear it, to know that they were official, that Michael wanted him back just as badly in every way.

He tried not to think too much into it – Michael wasn’t exactly in his right mind, after all – and he ended up pulling his hand away and resting it on his lap, Michael’s eyes following it.

“Do you have acetone? Do you want me to go get you some?”

But Michael was still staring at his hand. “Give me that,” he said, and Alex looked at him curiously before realizing what he was talking about. He placed his hand in Michael’s, and Michael put it back in his hair, waiting for Alex to run his fingers through his locks before he let go.

“Guerin,” Alex said after a moment, his hand still in Michael’s hair, “are you okay?”

Michael said nothing for a moment, staring off into space, then, “I thought about it again today. Going home.”

Alex’s hand stilled. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Spent the past two days locked in my bunker, going over these calculations and space trajectories – trying to trace the right path to follow if I ever find those last pieces of my ship.”

Alex’s fingers twitched, but he resumed raking through Michael’s hair, hoping he hadn’t noticed. If he did, he didn’t comment. “Mm hm.”

“But I couldn’t focus,” he said, his voice quiet. “Which is… _weird_. I always focus when I’m down there, I always know what I’m working towards. Most of the time, it’s all I think about. But I couldn’t this time. I haven’t been able to almost at all lately. It’s been driving me crazy.”

Alex said nothing, and Michael’s eyes suddenly came into focus as he stared at him. “Next thing I knew, I was here. And… you weren’t, and I wanted you to be, so I called you.”

Alex watched him, silent a moment, then, “Well, do you feel better now? Or are you still confused?”

Michael closed his eyes, exhaling as he brought his hand to cover Alex’s. He turned his head and kissed his wrist. “I dunno how I feel right now. I just wanted to see you. Do I have to think about anything else?”

Alex shook his head, a lump forming in his throat as he thought about the piece of UFO hidden at the bottom of a duffel bag in his cabin. Not for the first time since finding out what it was, since knowing Michael had needed it to be able to leave the planet, he wondered if he was being unfair by keeping it to himself. He wondered if maybe it was time to give it back to its owner, but every time he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was as good as saying goodbye, and as selfish as it was, he wasn’t ready to do that yet.

“What’re you thinking about?” Michael asked suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Alex blinked. “Nothing really.”

“You’re lying,” he narrowed his eyes, or at least tried to, his eyes fluttering, the exhaustion taking over. “You look like your puppy’s dying, knock it off. I didn’t call you here to make you sad.”

He shook his head, mustering a small smile. “I’m not sad. I’m just… really sorry.”

Michael’s frown deepened. “For what?”

“That I can’t help you get home,” Alex said. _It’s not a complete lie._ “I know it’s all you want.”

Michael searched Alex’s face, then quietly repeated, “All I want.” He sighed deeply and moved to rest his head on Alex’s shoulder.

Alex adjusted their positions so that Michael could be more comfortable. “Is there anything I can do?”

“You’re already doing it,” Michael said, and he looked up at Alex’s face. He chuckled softly, kissing his cheek before resting back on his shoulder, his eyes closed. “Relax. I know you’re here for me, Private, no matter what.”

Alex swallowed, covering Michael’s hand on his arm with his own, and in a voice barely over a whisper, he said, “Yeah. No matter what.”


	167. Malex & Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you need to go to the hospital?"

Alex covered his ears as the plate hit the opposing wall, smashing to pieces. It didn’t do anything to calm Michael who was still grabbing whatever he could, tossing it against the trailer.

“Guerin,” Alex tried for what felt like the millionth time, “please, stop it!”

It was as if Michael couldn’t hear him, and as the trailer was small, it shook with every angry step, nearly knocking Alex – who was already struggling with balance – to the floor.

“Calm down –”

“My _mom_ , Alex! She was my mom!” Michael yelled, taking a beer bottle and angrily throwing it against the wall.

“I know,” Alex’s voice cracked, “but _please_ , you have to calm down before you hurt yourself!”

“I don’t care about hurting myself,” he shook his head, his eyes filled with tears. “I don’t care about dying, I don’t care about any of it.”

“Guerin…” Alex trailed off and covered his face, resigned as Michael’s anger resumed, the floor covered with more and more broken glass with every passing second, the air filled with his screams of anguish and rage.

Alex listened helplessly as he cursed humans, his miserable life, the government, and himself. There was more glass breaking, then silence.

He looked up to find Michael’s fist in his mirror, the glass shattered around it, blood seeping down his fingers.

“God,” Alex whispered, and hurried to Michael’s side. He took his fist and held it carefully in his hands. “What did you do?”

Michael was panting, his face twitching as he stared at his hand, at Alex’s fingers carefully brushing away the larger glass pieces. “It’s okay,” he said.

“It’s not okay,” he shook his head, and a tear slipped out. “I don’t know if… **d-do you need to go to the hospital?** I think…” He exhaled sharply. “This looks really bad, Guerin.”

“I don’t feel it.”

Alex bit down on his lower lip and ignored him, taking out whatever glass shards he could. Alex didn’t know if he was relieved or not that Michael had used his uninjured hand to punch the mirror.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said, another tear falling. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

Michael shook his head, exhaling a shaky breath through grit teeth. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Alex’s shoulder, taking his hand out of Alex’s to come around the private’s waist, pulling their bodies against one another.

Michael’s fingers were holding Alex with enough strength to bruise, but Alex said nothing as he wrapped his arms around Michael’s shoulders, holding him steady.

“I can’t breathe, Alex,” he said, pulling Alex close enough that he could feel Michael’s heart racing against his chest. “I can’t – I can’t breathe.”

Alex didn’t know what to do except hold on, and try not to cry into Michael’s shirt. He couldn’t do this now, he had to stay strong for the man he loved. He forced in a deep breath, quickly wiping his eyes with his fist.

“We’ll figure it out, okay? It’ll be okay, we’ll – we’ll figure it out.”

“No, Alex…” Michael croaked, and Alex felt tears soak his shoulder.

He hugged Michael tighter, shaking his head. “No, we will. We’ll make this right, Guerin, I promise –”

“There’s no making this right, Alex,” he said, and pulled back, his eyes red, wet, and full of resignation as he stared at Alex. “Not this time.”

And Alex knew he was right. He couldn’t envision any possible solution to fix what had happened, to give Michael his mother back. Even if the entire government burned to the ground, Alex knew it would never be enough to take away the pain.

His fingers trembled against Michael’s shoulders. Michael was still holding onto his waist. That was something, wasn’t it? It had to have been. If Michael was keeping him close, it meant he believed in him. It meant Alex could still do something, could still help. He just needed Michael to hold on a little longer.

“O-Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, we don’t have to do anything now. Just, maybe…” he looked down at Michael’s cut hand, leaking blood into his shirt. “Let me bandage you up, yeah?” He brought a hand up to Michael’s jaw, his thumb softly caressing his cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen. He swallowed and tried to make his voice light, though the cracks were evident to his own ears. “Can you sit still for a few minutes?”

Instead of replying, Michael stared at Alex with furrowed brows, his jaw clenched. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Alex felt a heavy dread suddenly grow in his chest, but he ignored it. “It’s okay, don’t apologize.” He put his hand on Michael’s wrist, but couldn’t bring himself to tug his hand off. “Come on, you can either have me or the hospital.”

He meant it to be a joke, but Michael took it seriously as he shook his head. “I want you. _So_ badly.”

The dread grew. Alex tried to smile. “A-Alright, you have me, so sit down. Do you have a first-aid kit anywhere here?”

“But I can’t have you,” Michael whispered, ignoring him. “I can’t even… I can’t even stand to be near you.”

Alex’s face fell. “W-What?”

“It was Jesse Manes,” he said. “ _Jesse Manes_ , he did all of this, _your father_. _His_ blood runs in your veins, and you know what? I can feel it. It’s like whatever hatred I had when I saw him that day in the toolshed, I feel it now.”

“Guerin, wait –”

“And I don’t want to hate you, Alex.”

Alex felt Michael’s hands slip from his waist, out of his hold, and he panicked. “No, no, no, no, no, wait, Guerin, stop this, you – you know me, okay? You _know_ me, and you know that I… you know how I feel about you, and you know I would never hurt you –”

“That doesn’t matter, don’t you get it?” he looked pained as he moved away from Alex, as if the distance between them was killing him.

“I told you my family’s been targeting yours,” Alex tried. “I told you, and you wanted me to stay.”

“Knowing it and _seeing_ it are two different things. I didn’t think they would go that far, do _that_ much damage.” Alex noticed the furniture in the trailer, as well as the glass on the floor, begin to levitate off the ground. Michael’s eyes, however, were on him. “Your family’s sick, Alex. They’re monsters.”

“Guerin,” Alex tried as the glass rose higher, the trailer starting to shake.

“If Jesse was here now,” Michael said, his voice quiet, “if he was here, Alex –”

“I’m not my dad,” Alex said. “I’m nothing like them, you know that!”

“I’d kill him,” he whispered, and Alex fell silent. The glass turned, as if trying to find a target, and the larger, sharper pieces slowly pointed at Alex. “My feelings for you would mean nothing. I’d kill him, Alex, I swear I’d kill him, and I’d enjoy it.”

But Alex wasn’t looking at the glass. He was looking at Michael, and despite his best efforts, another tear fell. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do,” he said, taking another step back while the glass inched closer to Alex. “I really do.”

“Guerin –”

“And you – you look just like him.”

“No, I don’t!”

“ _Just_ like him –"

“STOP!”

Michael seemed to snap out of his haze, and he realized what he was doing. He gasped, and the glass fell to the trailer floor.

He moved until his back hit the opposing wall, and without looking at Alex, shock at what he’d nearly just done still on his face, he said, “Get out, Alex. I can’t take the sight of you right now. Please, just go.”

Alex hesitated, then did what he always did; followed his orders. He left the trailer hurriedly, unable to take the expression Michael was wearing, and all but ran to his car. A searing pain coursed through his leg, but he didn’t care as he pressed the gas pedal as hard as he could, racing across the empty street. He didn’t stop until he was in front of his cabin, not needing nor wanting to do anything with Project Shepherd right now.

His eyes stung, but they had dried, and even after parking the car, he had a tight grip on the steering wheel, so hard that his knuckles had turned white. Michael’s words raced through his head so quickly that he thought his body was going to burn out from the inside. He could still hear the glass cracking under his feet, the sound of screaming, angry cursing at the world.

And he opened his eyes with a gasp, as if he’d just woken up from a bone-chilling nightmare. His eyes caught on a figure crouched in front of his front door, and he narrowed his eyes. It had to have been past midnight – who could’ve decided to visit him now?

Then the figure spotted him, and stood. It was Kyle, Alex realized, his stand tense, his shoulders straight, and in his hand, there was what looked like crumpled papers.

Alex sighed, tapping his finger against the steering wheel before he let go and stepped out. As he moved toward the cabin door, Kyle approached him.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Alex asked, walking past him.

“Couldn’t do much of anything,” Kyle said. “I’ve been calling, where were you?”

“Oh, you know, hell,” he said curtly. All he wanted was to drink everything he had in his fridge, bury his face in his pillow, and try very hard never to wake up again. “Why? Did you want something?”

“I was looking over our dads’ files,” Kyle said, and Alex’s hand stilled on his keys. “Those medical reports I took from Caulfield on the prisoners, the-the – what’s it called – the smart bomb? The UFO crashing, the pods –”

“Where are you going with this, Kyle?” Alex asked, opening the door. Man, he was _tired_.

Kyle followed him inside. “Those aliens had been tested on for more than seven decades, Alex. _Seven_.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time you told me a few hours ago. Couldn’t this trip down memory lane have waited till tomorrow?”

Kyle stared, then, “No, it couldn’t have. Because there is no tomorrow for me. Not with this.”

Alex halted in his steps, an intense cold suddenly engulfing his heart as he turned around and realized Kyle was being serious. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” his hold on the papers tightened, “I’m done, Manes. I can’t do this anymore. Okay? A conspiracy was one thing, a fourth alien serial killer I could handle, but _this_? I can’t take it.”

Something flared in Alex’s chest, whether anger or panic, he couldn’t tell, but he had already felt Michael slip away from him. Kyle was the only anchor he had left, the _only_ person who didn’t look at Alex like he was a monster, like he was…

“You are _not_ leaving me to deal with this alone,” he said.

“Then come with me,” Kyle said, and Alex stopped. He hadn’t taken a proper look at Kyle’s face before, but now that they were inside with the lights on, he could see his eyes glistening. Kyle took a step towards him. “I can’t be in this town, Alex, I can’t _breathe_. I hate my dad for what he did, and I hate the alien who killed him, and I see them both everywhere I look. I feel like a criminal, like my head’s just filled with these dark thoughts, and I’m going to explode at any second.”

 _And you look just like him, Alex._ Just _like him._

Alex closed his eyes. “Okay,” he said slowly, “okay. You’ve been through a lot today. You just need to get some rest.”

“I just found out my dad had helped slowly murder imprisoned aliens for years,” he said. “What _rest_ , Alex?”

Alex sighed. He could see the anger flaring in Kyle’s eyes, the same way it did in Michael’s. But no, this was different. Michael had glared at Alex as if he was the one who had killed his mother. Kyle looked as if he was pleading, begging Alex to reassure him of the one thing that he had been doubting himself; _Am I like_ him _?_

“And now,” Kyle said, “it’s like everyone else can see it, too. In their eyes, it’s like… it’s like they know the kind of blood that runs in my veins, and they hate me for it. _I_ hate me for it.”

His _blood runs in your veins, and you know what? I can feel it. It’s like whatever hatred I had when I saw him that day in the toolshed, I feel it now._

“Don’t say that,” Alex said, feeling faint. “You’re not a criminal, Kyle, you’re a good guy. That doesn’t change just because of who your dad is.”

Alex looked down at the papers in Kyle’s trembling fist, gently loosened his grip, and took them from him. He set them on the table, not noticing that Kyle had taken another step towards him, his expression miserable and lost.

 _It’s not fair_ , Alex thought. It wasn’t fair that they were deemed to be the monsters their fathers were, it wasn’t fair that people got to blame them for their family’s mistakes, it wasn’t fair that…

“This is our legacy,” he finished out loud. “Neither of us asked for it, neither of us wanted it, and we got dragged into it, and now…” He shook his head. “If you really want to leave, Kyle, if you really want to stop now… we’ll stop.”

Kyle shut his eyes, his frown deepening as he moved to rest his forehead against Alex’s shoulder, and Alex noticed that while Michael’s hold on his waist was tight, Kyle’s was soft. Michael wanted to anchor himself to earth using Alex, but Kyle wanted to rise to the clouds and stay there.

Alex hesitated, then slowly raised his hands to Kyle’s arms, holding back just as lightly. He exhaled slowly. “We can pretend nothing happened. We can shut down the bunker, and burn the files, and start over. We can grab a beer and talk about music and your weirdest patients, and… just be friends again. No more partners, no more decrypted messages… no more aliens. We can start over.” He felt Kyle’s hold on him tighten ever so slightly, and he took a deep breath. “But…”

“But it’s our job to fix this,” Kyle whispered. “It shouldn’t have to be, but it is, isn’t it?” Alex said nothing, waiting for Kyle’s decision. When they were younger, and had been closer than brothers, Alex had looked up to Kyle in every possible way. _He_ was the leader, the one who made the battle plans. Alex was his soldier, carrying out his orders because he was the only one brave enough to do it. And now, he would do it again. One last time.

_I can’t even stand to be near you._

_My feelings for you would mean nothing._

_I can’t take the sight of you right now. Please, just go._

Finally, after what felt like forever of just being close together, Kyle lifted his head with a sigh. He looked into Alex’s eyes, and with a promise in his voice Alex hadn’t heard since they were twelve and Kyle told him with a serious gaze that he would protect him no matter what came at them, he said, “You’re not fighting this war alone, Manes. I’m terrified of what’ll happen, but…”

“I’ll protect you,” Alex said. Kyle had been the one silver lining in his life for the longest time, and then he wasn’t, and now… “Whatever else goes to hell, I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

“Alex…”

Alex smirked. “It’s my last mission. I will not let myself fail. Whatever it takes.”


	168. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sleep is for the weak."

Michael heard the faint sound of typing before he opened his eyes. He reached an arm out, hoping he was wrong, but as his fingers touched warm sheets, he sighed, his arm going limp. He waited a moment, hoping Alex would somehow appear in front of him on his own, or that his telepathic distress call would send him running in.

When his boyfriend failed to do both, Michael, whose face was half-buried in his pillow, groaned. “Alex?”

The typing didn’t stop, and Michael called again. Everything went silent, and for a second, Michael thought Alex would come in to check on him, but then the keyboard sounded, and Michael thought he was going to lose his mind.

It was ridiculous, he knew, to be jealous of a computer, and he wasn’t saying he was, but it would’ve been unfair to dismiss the fact that the stupid screen got to see Alex more than his own boyfriend did.

Resigned, Michael forced himself up and opened his eyes. He was curious to find himself in a large bedroom, then remembered that he was spending the night at Alex’s cabin. He’d been spending a lot of nights at Alex’s cabin lately. The thought gave him comfort as he trudged out of bed, pulling the blanket off the mattress and wrapping it around his shoulders, covering his naked body.

His feet touched cold wood, and he shivered as the chill shot up his legs. He stepped into the living room and found Alex on the couch, the light of his laptop screen illuminating his face. He wore that _military man_ expression that Michael was starting to forget he had; the one that spoke of a man who’d seen indescribable horrors, lived to tell the tale, and wished he hadn’t. Michael, who was unafraid of most things, was scared of that face. It never meant anything good.

He was careful to keep his voice light despite having just woken up as he said, “If you tell me you’re cheating on me with some middle-aged housewife who loves nice guys and taking walks on the beach, I’m gonna be really disappointed.” A smirk broke out on Alex’s lips, his expression softening, and Michael felt at ease. “You deserve a skyping Frenchie with abs and a big dick, _at least_.”

Alex’s smile widened, and pride swelled in Michael’s chest as he walked up to him. He wore pajama pants, his prosthetic leg off, his other crossed under his laptop.

“What’re you doing up?” he asked, and before Alex could answer, he plopped down beside him, stretched an arm over his shoulders, and said, “No, wait, don’t tell me. ‘Don’t worry, I’m just spying on Russian intelligence, Guerin. I’m basically a vampire, Guerin. **Sleep is for the weak** , Guerin.”

Alex breathed a chuckle, rubbing his face with one hand, and Michael’s smile turned small. He had been right not to trust that military face. He’d never seen Alex look so exhausted.

Alex leaned his head against Michael’s arm, his voice soft as he asked, “Did I wake you?”

“Kind of,” Michael confessed. “I don’t think I’m capable of sleeping in a bed anymore if you’re not in it.”

Alex’s smile was both apologetic and fond as he leaned forward to gently peck Michael’s lips, and returned to his work. Michael kissed his shoulder, and frowned.

“Alex, you’re freezing,” he said, pulling the blanket off his torso and covering Alex with it, even through his objections. “It’s not fine, you could get sick.”

“It’s okay, really,” he said, his eyes on his screen. “I’m almost done anyway.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just going over a few security servers for some upcoming ops,” Alex said.

Michael frowned, tugging Alex closer to warm him up, “Sounds stressful.”

“It is,” Alex said. “If anything happens, if any communication lines are compromised during a mission…” he trailed off and sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes.

“How long have you been staring at this thing?”

Alex shook his head. “I don’t know, a few hours.”

“A few _hours_? A few hours of just staring at green numbers on a black screen?” Michael reached out to close the laptop. “Alex, come on, you’re gonna drive yourself crazy, you have to go to sleep.”

But Alex waved off his hands. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“If only I could, but you never seem to want to give me the chance.” Michael watched as Alex worked for a bit, then, “Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Michael’s brows furrowed, “now that I think about it, you’ve been up before me every morning for the past month.” It was only for a split second, but Michael noticed Alex’s fingers slow over the keys. “Alex, have you… have you been sleeping at all?”

“Of course, I’ve been sleeping,” he said, chuckling, but Michael prided himself on knowing Alex better than anyone, which meant he knew when he was faking a smile. He’d done it so often before, Michael had hoped he would never have to do it in front of him again. “I wouldn’t be able to function if I haven’t.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Michael said, his eyes on Alex’s face, carefully watching for the slightest shift in his expression.

Alex must’ve pressed the wrong key because he hissed, annoyed, and covered his face, seemingly trying to keep himself awake. “Damn it. Wrong input.”

Michael looked at the numbers and secret codes, none of it making any sense to him, and he asked, “Do you even need to do this now? Or do you just wanna stay busy?”

Alex said nothing, focusing intently on the computer as he fixed his mistake, and resumed scrolling through.

Michael stared at him a moment before he leaned forward. “Alex, forget the computer for a second – look, I’m taking it away, okay? That’s it – and talk to me.”

Alex sighed, looking too tired to even put up an argument. Michael turned him so that they were facing each other on the couch, Alex’s leg over Michael’s, the blanket sliding off their shoulders.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Michael said, taking one of Alex’s hands and massaging it. It made Alex laugh, as Michael knew it would because Alex had a habit of giggling whenever Michael touched him in a way that wasn’t sexual. “Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

Alex’s laugh died down, the smile on his lips, as he watched Michael’s fingers play with his, small, far from the look in his eyes. “You can’t do anything to fix it, Guerin.”

Michael searched Alex’s face, then grabbed his hips and pulled him closer so that he was almost straddling him. The two leaned against the couch cushions, close enough that their foreheads were touching.

“Tell me anyway,” he said.

Alex’s eyes caught his and he looked away, and Michael hated that. He hated that Alex felt the need to look away from him, as if afraid.

He took Alex’s hand and kissed his fingers. “Tell me,” he whispered, and Alex inhaled a shaky breath.

“The noise,” he said. “I can’t take all the noise.”

Michael frowned, shaking his head slowly. “Alex, there’s no noise.”

“Yes, there is,” he quietly said, tapping his head. “All the time.”

Realization dawned, and Michael’s fingers tightened around Alex’s. “The war. You still get nightmares?”

Alex swallowed, his eyes filling with tears, as if they were just waiting for him to slow down so that they could show themselves. “You know, whenever the outside world goes quiet, I hear them. Intercoms, and screaming, and gunshots. It’s like an alarm clock… that _never turns off_ ,” he whispered, a tear falling down his cheek, though he smiled as if it was just what it was, as if it happened to everyone, and he was used to the pain by now.

“I look out the window when it’s dark, and I keep waiting for that bomb to go off in the distance, to see fire suddenly grow in the blackness, and feel the windows shaking. I lie in bed, and it’s like I’m back in that plane, and my eardrums burst, and my stomach drops, and I can’t –”

“Okay, okay, shh,” Michael held him close, one arm coming around his back, the other around his shoulders, his hand in his hair, his grip tight. “Shh, it’s alright.”

Alex clenched his jaw, tears silently falling as he wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist, holding him close. Michael could feel Alex shaking against him, and he wondered how the hell he hadn’t noticed this before.

 _Because Alex is a warrior,_ Michael reminded himself. He’d endured training that could only be associated with torture, and not only survived, but became one of the best there was.

 _But at what cost?_ He thought. They _shattered_ him.

Alex sighed deeply against Michael’s chest, wiping his eyes as he pulled back, though Michael didn’t fail to notice the slight tremor in his hands.

“Are you taking medication for this?” he asked.

Alex sniffed and nodded. “Sometimes it’s just a little harder. It’s okay, it should get better soon.”

“What triggered it this time?”

“Nothing,” he said, though he didn’t seem too upset by it. He didn’t seem anything now but tired. “It comes and goes. Seriously, I’ll be okay. Go back to bed, I promise I’ll just finish up and follow you.”

And Michael watched as Alex mechanically took the computer back and resumed his work, as if he couldn’t wait to distract himself again, to keep his mind running on something – _anything_ else, even if it was excruciatingly mind-numbing security sequences.

The cowboy sighed and raised his legs onto the couch, making himself comfortable as he curled up against the cushion, watching Alex work.

Alex realized he wasn’t going to budge, and raised a brow at him. “Guerin –”

“Look me in the eyes, and tell me you want me to go back to bed and leave you here.”

Alex stared, his expression falling, and Michael nodded, settling himself close enough that his lips barely pressed against Alex’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

Michael’s eyes fluttered shut to the sound of typing, the sound never ceasing, even as the sunlight hit.


	169. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't like the way they look at you."

Michael clenched his fists. He was going to kill someone today, he knew it, and it was going to be completely Alex’s fault.

Michael glanced at his boyfriend as he took a swig from his beer bottle, seemingly unaware of the group of men and women at the corner of the bar, ogling him. _Tourists_ , Michael thought. He knew they’d be gone soon enough, but he wondered if it would be before or after Michael used his telekinesis to crash the floorboards beneath them and give them a messy drop into the storage room.

It didn’t help that Alex’s hair had grown longer, his bangs falling over his eyes, several strands sticking out, as if someone had just run their hand through them. Admittedly, when Michael had seen him, he’d pulled him into an alley, and reveled at the soft locks between his fingers, his hands keeping the back of Alex’s head safe as he pounded into him against a brick wall. And the fact that Alex hadn’t bothered to pat the strands down made something bloom in Michael’s chest.

_Still_ , he thought as he took another look over his shoulder, he kind of wanted to cover Alex in a cloak and hold him close so people knew he was off limits.

“Stop it,” Alex said, his eyes on the small tv hanging in the corner, a baseball game on. “I can feel you vibrating.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Michael pursed his lips. “ **I don’t like the way they look at you.** ”

Alex sighed. “Who cares, Guerin?”

“They’re undressing you with their eyes!”

“You’re the one who wanted to come to this bar,” Alex said. “We could’ve gone to the Wild Pony, but _no_ , you insisted, so we’re here.”

“I insisted because ever since people found out you were gay, it’s like every creep has come out of the woodworks to hit on you,” Michael said, already feeling his blood boil at the thought of each of those men, all people who’d known Alex for a long time, come up to him with a knowing smirk. “As if you being gay meant you were willing to sleep with anybody.”

Alex frowned at the memory. “That was annoying, I’ll admit, but at least there, I had Maria to kick them out, which she always did, _every time_ , without question.”

“Yeah,” Michael said, “but I hated the idea that everyone there thought they could have you.”

“They couldn’t, Guerin, they _can’t_ ,” Alex said, smiling softly as he turned to face Michael. “You get people flirting with you all the time, and _I’m_ not upset by it.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that anyway?” Michael faced him, their knees touching. “You don’t have any faith in my charm?”

“Oh, I have faith in your charm,” Alex laughed. “Not as much as I have in you, though.”

Michael blinked, surprised, and he could feel the tenseness in his shoulders fade. “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” Alex’s smile widened. “Guerin,” he took Michael’s hand, his thumb caressing Michael’s fingers, “I’ve never been so happy in my life. I don’t know, you put everything into place, and most things just don’t… _bother me_ like they used to.” He shook his head like it was obvious. “I wouldn’t give you up for anything.”

Michael swallowed. Alex’s eyes shined as they stared back at him, and Michael knew he was telling the truth. Even when they were teenagers, Alex had this darkness that clung to him like a curse, as if he was afraid someone would suddenly jump out of the shadows and attack him. Now, he still scanned rooms the second he walked in, checking for all exit points, he was still wary and formal around strangers, he was still going weeks at a time without sleep – and those were all the aftereffects of war, something Michael didn’t think he could ever completely heal – but when he talked to his friends, to Michael, his voice was lighter. He often reached for Michael’s hand and played with his fingers without even seeming to realize he was doing it. When Michael held him, he sighed contentedly, melting into his embrace instead of worrying that someone might suddenly pull them apart.

Michael huffed a chuckle, and tilted his head, his eyes narrowed. “Really?”

Alex nodded, leaning in, and Michael resisted the strong urge to pull him onto his lap. He leaned in enough to take Alex’s lips in his, and chased Alex as he leaned back, tugging Alex’s lower lip with his teeth.

Alex breathed, his forehead against Michael’s, and at the feel of his warmth, his alluring scent of maple syrup and wood, and his delicate, beautiful fingers coming up Michael’s arms, Michael forgot all about the tourists, about anybody that may have been watching them. All he could see, feel, think about was Alex.

“Come on,” he said, running his thumb along Alex’s lips. “I don’t feel like having sex in an alley again. Let’s go find a bed.”


	170. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't want to be friends."

“Alex, get off me!”

Alex huffed, the thermometer in his hand. “If you’re so _okay_ , then why don’t you just let me check your damn temperature?”

“I’m not sick,” Michael said. “I can’t _get_ sick, okay?”

“You were working in the rain all day yesterday, and fell asleep in your clothes,” Alex said. “You might not get hypothermia, but you can still get fevers, Guerin.”

“You’re worrying too much,” Michael sat up, and as soon as the blanket Alex had placed around his shoulders fell, he shivered.

“I’m worrying the perfectly normal amount,” Alex said and with his good leg, kneeled on Michael’s bed, one hand on his jaw to gently hold him still. “Just stick it under your tongue and wait for the beeping. I’m not asking you to diffuse a missile here!”

Michael looked up at Alex and something in him seemed to shift as he slumped against his pillow with a sigh. Alex put the thermometer in its place, holding on as the two waited for the result.

Michael was staring at Alex, and he said, “You saying if it looks bad, you’ll take care of me, Private?”

Alex raised a brow, and lifted Michael’s jaw. “Keep your mouth shut, Guerin, or this is going to take a lot longer.”

Michael hummed as he took Alex’s hand and placed it against his jaw, and Alex instantly thought of two things. The first was that he hoped Michael couldn’t hear his racing heart, echoing loudly in his own ears. The second was that Michael definitely, without a doubt, had a fever.

“You’re burning up,” Alex said, and Michael smirked at him suggestively. Alex blushed and brought his hand down. “Not a word.”

The thermometer beeped, and Alex pulled it out. He sighed at the high temperature.

“I take it by the joy on your face that the result is exactly what you were hoping for,” Michael smiled, though Alex couldn’t miss the crack in his voice as if his lungs ached, the way he subtly sneaked his arms under the blanket, the way he blinked rapidly because his eyes were watering.

Alex cleaned the thermometer, set it on the table, and placed his hands on Michael’s shoulders, gently guiding him down. “Alright, you cover yourself up, I’m going to make you some soup.”

“Alex,” Michael said, his hands on Alex’s wrists, “I really don’t need you to do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Alex said. “Mr. Macho, you don’t need anybody, you can handle anything. Humor me, will you?”

“Can I at least get a kiss?”

The corner of Alex’s lips rose. “I’m not kissing you while you’re sick, Guerin. Get better and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Michael bit his lower lip and groaned, his eyes raking Alex’s body. “That’s a dangerous promise to make.”

Alex huffed a chuckle despite himself, shaking his head, and he leaned in close enough to press his forehead against Michael’s. “Get your head out of the gutter. Friends don’t sleep with friends, remember?”

Michael’s eyes were half-lidded, and he had been tilting his head up, trying to catch Alex’s lips, but at Alex’s words, his gaze came into focus, and his smile turned small.

“Right,” he said quietly, and pulled back.

Alex faltered at the look on Michael’s face, and let Michael get under the covers by himself. “I’ll start on the food.”

Michael said nothing as he pulled his pillows up and settled comfortably against the headboard, the blanket around his shoulders.

Alex worked in silence, glancing over at Michael every so often as the water boiled. His fingers tapped against the stove, and he wondered if he’d made a mistake using that word. Since he and Michael had agreed to start off as friends, they’d been better than he could’ve hoped. They smiled around each other, even laughed, spoke casually, and sometimes – though more on Michael’s part – flirtingly. Alex had just assumed Michael talked like that around everyone, and while it did nothing to calm the skip of his heart whenever Michael looked at him like he was desperate to have them in bed together, he tried with everything he had not to let it get to his head.

He still remembered what it felt like that day, over a decade ago, when he thought Michael had been interested in him and had leaned in to kiss him, only to have Michael turn away at the last second. Granted, Michael had come to see him the next day, but Alex hadn’t known he would at the time. He remembered the feeling of rejection, of panic when Michael asked to talk in private because he honestly thought Michael would try to distance himself from him.

This time, however, the stakes were even higher, because they’d been through too much, and Alex had loved him for too long. If he lost Michael this time, he didn’t think he could survive it.

The soup was almost ready, and Alex thought the cowboy had fallen asleep. He was deliberating on whether or not he should wake him right away or let him sleep for another half an hour when Michael suddenly said, “We’re friends.”

Alex blinked, and saw that Michael had turned in his bed and was staring at him. “What?”

Michael shook his head, then seemed to decide against it and repeated, “We’re friends, right?” Alex pressed his lips together and nodded. “You sure? Because I think you may have been right. Friends don’t sleep with their friends.”

His brows furrowed. “What’re you –”

“ **I don’t want to be friends** , Alex. Friends don’t typically _want_ to sleep with their friends. Friends don’t want to kiss their friends, friends don’t get jealous when other people watch their friends, friends don’t think about their friends all day, friends don’t –”

“Okay –”

“— you know, typically think about pounding into their friends, unless it’s a really weird kind of friendship, and I don’t really want that either.”

“I get it.”

“Do you?” Michael pushed himself off the bed, and swayed a little before he held on to his counter. Alex urged him to sit back down, but he ignored him, stepping into his space. “I’m in love with you, Alex. Either you haven’t been able to tell, or you just don’t feel the same way anymore, and can’t bring yourself to tell me.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “Don’t feel the same way anymore?”

“I’ve tried to get closer, to kiss you, touch you, but… it’s like you don’t want me to.”

“I _love_ you, Guerin, more than you could imagine,” Alex shook his head, “but I’m scared, okay? And it’s weird, I’ve never been frightened like this, and I don’t know what to do with it.”

Michael frowned. “Why are you scared?”

Alex scoffed. “Are you kidding? After everything that’s happened?” Realization dawned on Michael’s face, but Alex couldn’t stop, his words pleading to get out. “The last time I let myself love you, I lost you. I can’t take that again.”

“Hey,” Michael held his face in his hands, and Alex felt the heat of his skin surge through him. “I’ve done nothing but think about you since the day I met you. You think I’d give you up again? Or let anyone else break us apart? I’d rather die, Private.”

Alex swallowed, his hands coming up to Michael’s waist as his heart hammered in his chest. “You… you want to be with me?”

Michael’s lips came close to his as he whispered, “More than anything.”

His and Michael’s lips were inches apart when the sound of boiling soup hit Alex’s ears, and his eyes widened. He gasped, and pulled himself away. “Stop, stop, stop.”

“What is it?” Michael asked, alarm tinting his otherwise hazed tone. “What’s wrong?”

Alex shook his head. “You’re still sick.”

Michael’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, _come on_.”

He tried to lean in again, but Alex slipped under his arm and moved behind him. “No, seriously, I’m not getting a fever just because you can’t wait another few days.”

“ _Days_?!” Michael said incredulously, then went into a fit of coughs, clutching the sink for support.

Alex was immediately at his side, patting his back, his other hand on his arm to keep him steady. The next thing he knew, Michael had grabbed his waist, and they both fell to the ground, Michael hovering over him.

“Guerin, stop,” Alex said, pushing at his chest, though he couldn’t help the laughter bubbling in his throat. “I’m not kissing you when you’re sick!”

“Just once!”

“No!”

“Then just a peck!”

“I may have one good leg, but I will use it to kick you into outer space where you belong if you don’t _get the hell off me_!”


	171. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let's get out of here."

“ **Let’s get out of here** ,” Michael whispered as his fingers stretched over Alex’s chest under his shirt, his thumb sliding against his nipple and making him fidget in his seat.

Alex inhaled a shaky breath, his hand on Michael’s back, subtly inching closer to him in their private little booth. Michael wanted to kiss him so badly, but as soon as he leaned forward, Alex pulled away, taking Michael’s hand off his chest.

“We can’t,” he said, though his forehead pressed harder against Michael’s as if it was taking everything he had to distance himself.

“Why not?” Michael panted.

“It’s Isobel’s birthday, Guerin,” Alex said, the corners of his lips tugging upward. “We can’t just leave.”

Michael looked over his shoulder at his sister who was singing loudly, her eyes half-lidded, her head on Maria’s shoulder, Maria singing just loudly, her arm around Isobel’s shoulders to keep them both steady.

Michael scooted closer to Alex, his hand rubbing over his stomach. “Isobel is drunk out of her mind. I doubt she’d even notice.”

Alex chuckled, and pecked Michael’s lips. “It still wouldn’t be right.”

Michael pressed his nose to Alex’s jaw, inhaling his scent. “I could make it feel right.”

He laughed, and Michael smiled against his neck. There was a time when he thought Alex was incapable of even looking at him for long. To be one of the few people who could make him laugh now felt like a privilege, _especially_ when he was this close to Michael.

“I can feel your heart racing in your chest,” he said, reaching again under Alex’s shirt, then he brought his lips to Alex’s ear and whispered, “I know you want me in you.”

Alex closed his eyes, leaning into his touch. Michael’s breathing quickened, and he panted against Alex’s ear as he brought his hand lower, his thumb digging into Alex’s bellybutton. “I can already feel you,” he said. “Tight… and _hot_.”

“Guerin,” he whispered, his voice constricted, his hand on Michael’s arm. “Stop.”

“Bet you’d like my cock in your mouth, too,” Michael groaned, licking the shell of Alex’s ear. “I can already feel your tongue on my dick – _ah_.”

Alex swallowed, his cheeks flushed. “You’re crazy.”

“Oh?” Michael smirked, placing a small, open mouth kiss to Alex’s ear, then his cheek, then the corner of his lips. “Is that a no, then?”

Alex stood out of his hold, his body rigid and his fists shaking, and Michael’s smile fell as he realized that he maybe had gone too far. He stood, his hands coming up Alex’s arms, trying to soothe him.

“Hey,” he tried, his tone lighthearted though his heart beat rapidly, fear creeping into his stomach. “I, uh, I was just –”

But Alex wouldn’t listen. He grabbed Michael by his jacket collar and pulled him in close. Michael felt Alex’s hot breath fan his lips as he panted through grit teeth.

“Bathroom,” Alex said in that low, commanding voice that sent shivers up Michael’s entire body. “ _Now_.”


	172. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Maybe you should sit down."

Kyle stared at Alex, his fingers scratching the door nervously as he silently prayed that the soldier would move.

Alex had arrived like this. His tone colored with disbelief and shock when Kyle called him and told him that his father had fallen into a coma, and he’d walked in with a slight furrow in his brows, his eyes going straight for the passed out man on the white bed.

As nurses and doctors alike came in and out, informing Alex of his father’s condition in a quiet, sympathetic tone, Alex stared straight ahead at Jesse’s sleeping face, his expression unreadable. Kyle wanted to put an arm over Alex’s shoulders, but Alex looked unwell enough as it was, and he didn’t know if he’d appreciate any contact right now, especially not from _him_.

Kyle couldn’t blame him. He couldn’t say he was remorseful about what he’d done. Jesse had deserved it, he’d deserved more, and there was always a chance of waking him up if he worked hard enough on an antidote, but… he didn’t want to. The world was a better place without the likes of Jesse Manes in it.

The room was empty now; it had been for the past few minutes, and still, Alex stood with an almost numb expression. _He’d been crying_ , Kyle thought, chancing a long enough look at the soldier to notice his red eyes. Alex was usually attentive to everyone and everything in his surroundings, and because of it, Kyle’s glances were always caught, no matter how quick. Alex always met him with a raised brow, but he turned away immediately, clearing his throat, his cheeks burning.

Kyle didn’t quite understand it, why his heart jumped the way it did when he and Alex were close, but he knew it was similar to what used to happen to him in high school. The same strange embarrassment at being caught, the same lump in his throat, forbidding him from speaking properly, the same tingling in his chest. Only then, it had been accompanied by something darker.

Kyle had gotten upset with Alex whenever these things happened to him, a panic rising in his stomach as he worried that others had caught his stares at the boy with piercings, too. He couldn’t remember a time he ever wanted to hurt Alex, but he knew that there were times he had.

Now, however…

“Please say something,” he spoke, breaking the silence of the white room. Alex didn’t even flinch, and Kyle swallowed, his hands tightening into fists. “Alex, _please_.”

For another few seconds, Alex said nothing, then, “Do I wanna know?”

“What do you mean?”

Alex slowly turned to him, his eyes almost hazed. _Had he looked like that all day?_

“How this happened,” he said, and Kyle froze.

Kyle’s fingers, the ones that had previously held a need containing a dangerous solution, twitched. Alex would understand, wouldn’t he? Alex hated his father. He would tell Kyle it was okay. That what he did was okay.

He stepped forward, taking in a deep breath, “Alex, I –”

“Okay,” Alex closed his eyes, his brows furrowed as he held up a hand, his voice barely over a whisper. “Okay.”

“You don’t want to hear what happened?”

“You clearly don’t want to tell me,” Alex said, his eyes back on his father. “And that tells me everything I need to know.”

Alex sighed, rubbing his temples, and Kyle took another step closer, frowning. Before he could ask Alex if he was okay, Alex dropped his hand and said, “We’ll figure it out. You and me, we’ll, uh – we’ll figure it out.”

And somehow, as if their connection from all those painful years ago had never shattered, Kyle heard it; the silent promise of figuring out a solution together, figuring out something to this problem of Jesse and Project Shepherd, something that would rid Kyle of this guilt he felt for what he’d done, and end this entire case once and for all.

Kyle could only nod in response, his eyes burning, avoiding Jesse’s bed. “It’s not fair,” he said before he could help himself. “It’s not fair that monsters like him can do the things he’s done and not blink an eye.” He chuckled miserably, “And I can’t even _look_ at him now.”

Kyle looked up at Alex, and his face fell when he saw Alex swaying where he stood, one hand reaching for something beside him to hold onto. Without thinking, Kyle closed the space between them, standing right behind Alex. He had one hand to Alex’s waist, another holding his hand to keep him steady.

“Alex,” he breathed “are you okay?”

Alex shook his head, his eyes closed. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

But Kyle knew he wasn’t. His lips were chapped as if he’d been biting them nervously, his face was pale, his skin freezing as if he’d been standing in snow all day.

“What were you doing before I called?” he slowly asked.

Something in Alex seemed to shatter, his eyes glistening as they always did, only to reveal a tear that refused to fall, and Alex, sounding more broken than Kyle had ever heard him, whispered, “Waiting.”

_Waiting for what? Waiting for who? Who’s done this to you?_

Kyle had a million questions at the tip of his tongue, begging to be released, but then Alex gripped his hand tightly, and Kyle knew that this was not the day for it.

“ **Maybe you should sit down**.”

Alex shook his head. “No, I… I think I better get back to the cabin. I’ll be fine, I’m just – I’ll be fine. I’m fine.”

Kyle tightened his hold on Alex’s waist, ready to object with whatever medical jargon he knew would sound threatening enough to have Alex in a bed here, but the airman’s entire body rung with fatigue, his demeanor dejected and miserable, and Kyle feared for what would become of Alex today if someone else pushed him down.

“I’ll drive you,” he offered instead.

Alex shook his head. “I don’t need you to,” and he stepped out of Kyle’s hold, though his hand remained on Kyle’s shoulder as if he was trying to keep himself standing.

“I know you don’t need me to, Alex, but –”

“Kyle,” he cut him off, his voice soft, but his grip on Kyle’s shoulder strong enough to tell that Kyle that he wasn’t holding on for balance. “I’m _good_. Okay?”

Kyle clenched his jaw. No amount of arguing, he saw, was going to change Alex’s mind. Hesitantly, he nodded. Alex leaned into his side, his hand gradually squeezing his shoulder tighter and tighter until he let go, and he moved past him, heading towards the door.


	173. Kylex and Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're burning up."

Kyle heard Alex’s cough before he even entered the room. He looked up from the table where he was searching through his father’s pictures, the giant computer screens illuminated behind him, lighting the bunker.

“Why’re the lights off?” Michael asked as he walked in, irritated, Alex right behind him.

He turned a switch, and the bunker suddenly flooded with light. Kyle winced, and looked up to see Alex rubbing his eyes.

He held his pictures up, barely throwing Michael a glance before his gaze focused on Alex who settled on the opposite end of the table, his brows furrowed, his eyes closed. “Lost track of time. Alex, you okay?”

Before Alex could say anything, Michael took the seat beside him, his hand on the back of his head, running his fingers through his hair. “He’s fine.”

Kyle glared at Michael, and watched as Alex moved his head away from his touch, leaving Michael to stare at him with a mixture of guilt and misery on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Kyle said. “I’m pretty sure I was talking to Alex.”

Michael tapped his finger on the desk, sticking his tongue in his cheek, but Kyle ignored him and asked Alex, who had begun coughing again, if he was okay.

Alex waved it off, and said, “What’ve you been doing anyway?”

“You even _sound_ sick.”

“Kyle,” he sighed. “I’m too tired to argue with you, just answer my question.”

Kyle pressed his lips together, his eyes falling back down to the pictures in front of him. “Since Rosa and Max turned out okay, I thought it would be nice to find something of my dad’s to give Rosa. Something from her… from her father, you know?”

Alex pouted, reaching forward to take a picture Kyle had slid across the table. It was the first Kyle had ever seen, of his father holding Rosa as a baby in his arms. He knew it wasn’t much, but the idea of talking to Rosa about this – talking to Rosa about _anything_ , in fact – left a cold feeling in his stomach. He stole quick glances at Alex who had reached out for more pictures and was now looking through them with a small smile.

Before he could give it too much thought, he blurted, “Alex.”

“Hm?”

He swallowed. “You’d uh… you’d come with me if I asked you to, wouldn’t you?”

Both Michael and Alex looked up, and Michael’s eyes darkened.

Alex opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Michael again cut in, “Go with you where?”

Kyle ignored him and focused his gaze on Alex, trying very hard to push the warmth spreading up his neck back down. “You were one of Rosa’s best friends, and me – she didn’t really like me.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Michael said, his voice raising. He seemed to already know where Kyle was going with this, and he didn’t like it.

“I just think,” he continued calmly, “it would be easier for her to accept this stuff if there was a friendly face. You know, for support.”

Michael scoffed, and he looked to the ceiling as if Kyle had asked Alex to bring him the moon. Kyle clenched his jaw, trying not to think of how stupid the request had sounded, or how far down his heart would sink when Alex would awkwardly tell him that it wasn’t his place, or that he wasn’t really too fond of Kyle either, or –

“Sure.”

“What?” both he and Michael said at the same time.

Alex tugged his jacket closer around his shoulders, and sniffed, his eyes half-lidded. “Sure,” he repeated. “Makes sense to me.”

“No, it doesn’t, Alex,” Michael reasoned. “It sounds like a stupid excuse to go out with you!”

Alex rolled his eyes, though even that action seemed to cause him a headache, and he groaned, holding his head in his hands.

“Okay, that’s it,” Kyle stood, and in a few steps was by Alex’s side. He reached a hand out to touch his forehead, but his wrist was suddenly caught. As he looked up, he saw Michael fuming.

“I said he was fine.”

“I’m a doctor, Guerin,” Kyle said.

“Yes, as you love to keep reminding everyone.”

“I think I would know more about this than you.”

“Guys, stop, you’re making it worse!” Alex said, then went into a fit of violent coughs. Michael released Kyle and stood at Alex’s side, his arms outstretched, trying to hold him, but Alex weakly shoved at his chest.

“Stop it, Guerin.”

Michael blinked and stepped back as if Alex had burned him, and Kyle took advantage of his momentary shock to turn Alex’s chair and press his own forehead against Alex’s.

Alex seemed to be too out of it to focus, his eyes closed, but one touch was all it took for Kyle’s face to fall, and he pulled back immediately, wondering if the heat in his cheeks had spread from Alex’s. “Alex, **you’re burning up**.”

He stood and sighed, his hands on his hips. “Of course you are, you’ve had Guerin drag you around town again.” He glared at Michael who had been looking to the side, his jaw clenched. “What’d you do this time? Where’d you take him? How could you have let him leave the cabin looking like this?”

“ _Let_ me?” Alex stood. Despite the crack in his voice and the clear exhaustion on his face, he glared. “Let’s be clear on one thing. No one tells me what to do, Valenti. _Nobody_ , especially not Guerin.”

“You know what I meant, Alex,” Kyle said, stepping close enough to place a hand on Alex’s arm, his grip tight despite his brain telling him that angering Alex now would only hurt him. “You’re ill, you should’ve stayed in bed. I know you want to spend time with Guerin –”

“I didn’t leave my cabin for Guerin,” Alex said, heated. “Unless you’ve forgotten, he’s with somebody else!”

“Alex –” Michael tried, but it was as if Alex couldn’t hear him. _Or wouldn’t_ , Kyle thought, and he chose to ignore that small voice telling him Alex was still in pain. That Alex would always be in pain after Michael, and it wasn’t anything Kyle could fix.

“Then why?” Kyle said, wanting to forget that Michael was in the room, that he mattered so much to Alex, that his words were driving knives into Alex’s heart. “Damn it, you’re always so stubborn, _why_? Why’d you just _have_ to be a tough soldier today? What, so you could prove that nothing gets under your skin?”

“No –”

“T-To prove to Guerin that you’re fine without him, then?”

“I don’t have to _prove_ anything to anyone!”

“But you do,” Kyle nodded, glancing at Michael who was watching Alex with an indescribable look on his face. _Always watching Alex_ , he thought, the weight in his chest getting heavier and heavier. “You do, don’t you? Because it’s _him_. You have to show him that you’re okay.”

“Of course I’m not okay!” Alex snapped, his voice cracking, and the next thing Kyle knew, Alex was coughing heavily, bent over, his hand on his chest. Michael was at his side in an instant, pounding his back until Kyle stopped him. Before Michael could retaliate, he started rubbing Alex’s back soothingly, gesturing at Michael to get him the cup of water on one of the tables in the back. Michael looked torn between disobeying Kyle and helping Alex, but he quickly relented.

Alex took the cup from Michael without a look at him, ignoring his hand to take it back. He set it down on the table, his eyes going to Kyle.

“I don’t know what to do with my dad, okay?” He shook his head, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, his voice still dry and cracking. “I know we’re supposed to wake him up, but honestly, I don’t think I want to, and I’m terrified about what that makes me.”

“Alex –”

“ _Let me finish_.” He commanded. “My dad’s in a coma that I don’t want him to wake up from, my brothers are hiding something from me, but what _kills_ – and I still don’t understand why it hurts so badly – is that they won’t even _look_ at me now. I can’t talk to Liz because she’s caught up with Rosa, I can’t talk to my mom because she’s gone, and the man I love…”

Michael looked up, frowning. “Hey,” he said in a voice barely over a whisper, reaching for Alex’s arm, but Alex pulled it away roughly and took a deep, shaky breath. “The man I love is dating my best friend.”

Alex shrugged. “He’s moved on, but he won’t let me do the same because, for whatever reason, he won’t _leave me alone_.” He turned to face Michael. “Seriously, what do you even want with me anymore? Figured you’re so happy, you could trash everything between us and come talk to me like we’re besties now or something? Are you kidding me?”

Michael shook his head, stepping into Alex’s space, taking his face in his hands. “No, Alex, listen to me –”

“I came to see Kyle,” Alex said, and Kyle froze. He felt he maybe should’ve stepped back, given the two their room, but he didn’t want to. The bigger part of him wanted to be selfish, wanted to stay at Alex’s side, to protect him if anything were to happen.

Michael’s smile faltered, and he shook his head, stepping closer to Alex. “No, you’re just – you’re saying that because you wanna hurt me, and I get it, I –”

“It’s not to hurt you, Guerin,” Alex said, his voice surprisingly steady for someone who sounded like their lungs had been replaced with sandpaper. “It’s the truth. I came to see Kyle. Losing you killed me. Understand? It _killed_ me, and it’s still killing me, and… having Kyle, having him as my partner… I-I don’t know –”

“What don’t you know?” Michael asked, his anger rising, and Kyle stepped closer to Alex.

“I –”

“Do you like him?” he asked, and Kyle could’ve sworn he’d never seen Michael look so panicked. “Do you – do you love him?”

Kyle expected a quick no, expected Alex to lash out and push Michael away, even expected Alex to say that that was ridiculous.

But Alex only sighed, bringing Michael’s hands down from his face. “I tried so hard, but it was never enough. I’m not enough for you, Guerin.”

“What? _No_ , Alex –”

“You didn’t want to believe I was sick because then I’d have been more baggage to you, right? When I’m fine, you can pretend there’s nothing wrong with me, and that you didn’t go behind my back and date my best friend, but that’s what happened. I’m sorry I can’t be perfect for you, I’m sorry I have all of these problems, I’m sorry that seeing me is too painful for you, but this is me, okay? This is my life, and my life sucks, but…” He shook his head, huffing miserably. “Kyle stood by me. Even knowing all the crap that comes with me, he stood by me. Why couldn’t you?”

“Alex, I…” Michael trailed off, his eyes filled with tears, though his fists clenched tightly as if trying to control his body to do as he wanted.

When Michael found no answer, Kyle felt Alex’s silent anguish. He _felt_ the misery radiate off him, the depression hitting him hard and worsening his condition. Alex ducked his head, tightening his hold on his jacket, shivering.

Kyle wordlessly took his jacket off and placed it over Alex’s shoulders, earning a cold, hateful glare from Michael.

“Valenti,” he started, “I swear –”

“Go home, Guerin,” Alex said, his voice quiet, and even as he stood so close behind him, Kyle could feel him tense up, as if it was taking every fiber in his body to say those words. “Go home to your girlfriend, and leave us alone.”

Michael’s eyes searched Alex’s face, _undoubtedly for an excuse to stay_ , Kyle thought. Something he could use to prove that Alex was lying to himself, that he didn’t want Michael to ever leave his side. But that excuse wouldn’t come, and even Kyle could hear the sad resignation of it. Alex had held on to Michael for so long, had loved no one else, had hoped that they would someday be together, and now, as Michael stepped back, his eyes on Alex, as he quietly left the bunker, as the door slammed shut behind him, echoing loudly throughout the entire chamber, as Alex all but collapsed against Kyle’s chest, Kyle’s arms coming around to hold him close and steady, as he begged Kyle to keep still for just “another minute,” Kyle knew Alex had finally, and completely, given up hope.


	174. Kylex and Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I've got your back."

“One hour left till midnight,” Kyle said as he pulled his car up to the Wild Pony parking lot. “Say it, tell me this is the best birthday you’ve ever had.”

Alex shook his head, though his smile betrayed him. Kyle remembered a time when Alex had smiled like that, like nothing in the world could possibly bother him. Something though, whether it was his father, his brothers, and even for a while, Kyle himself – somebody always destroyed that happiness.

“Checking off every bar in Roswell is not how I ever expected to spend my birthday,” Alex said.

“How do you usually spend it?”

At this, Alex’s smile turned small, and Kyle’s did the same. “Don’t tell me…”

Alex seemed to notice Kyle was staring and he shook his head. “It’s no big deal, really. It’s just a day.”

“Alex, why?” he turned in his seat. “Why didn’t you celebrate it?”

Alex sighed, and shrugged a shoulder as if he’d already given up. “Something always happens. At first, I planned every year. Even in the Air Force, I knew if I just had one good thing happen to me, I’d consider it a birthday present, and somehow, it’d make up for all the other crap. But a hundred bombings and flights later, and it’s just gotten too hard.”

“You had hope –”

“—until I didn’t,” Alex finished. “Sometimes, it’s just safer. If you never blow out the candles, there’s nothing to lose.”

Kyle tightened his fingers around the steering wheel and forced a smile. He wouldn’t get upset in front of Alex today, he wouldn’t bring him down. Not today. “Well, at least I can confidently say that I’ve given Alex Manes the best birthday he’s had in a long time.”

Alex’s smile turned softer, more genuine, and he nodded.

Kyle clamped him on the back and was out of his seat in a second. “Alright, come on. Last stop of the day.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Alex chuckled, and began unbuckling his seatbelt.

“I’ll hurry on ahead,” Kyle said, already halfway to the door. “Order our drinks.”

“Final stop!” Alex said with a fist in the air as he stretched out his stiff leg from the seat first.

“It’ll be our longest!” Kyle said. “ **I’ve got your back** , don’t worry!”

“No!” he heard Alex laugh as he pushed past the doors of the Wild Pony, a wide smile on his face as the sound echoed behind him. Then he saw two people at the front of the bar, and he froze, his expression falling in an instant. There they were, Michael and Maria in a tight embrace, making out as if no one else was there. Technically, Kyle thought, no one else _had_ been there. But there was now, and there was about to be someone else.

Kyle’s head snapped to the door as he heard his car door close. He rushed outside, not caring if the two had heard him, and saw Alex walking up to him with his hands in his jacket pocket, his cheeks flushed, his hair tousled.

_How_ , he couldn’t help but briefly wonder. _How could anyone turn away from him?_

He remembered what Alex had told him when he’d encouraged the pilot to invite Michael along. “As soon as he finds out it’s your birthday, he’ll come _running_ , you’ll see,” Kyle had said. He didn’t know much about Guerin, and he wasn’t eager to find out, but he knew there was no one who could claim to love Alex Manes and not be there for him through anything.

Alex had hesitated, but finally decided to call Michael. Or, at least, he tried. Alex called Michael’s phone twice, and neither times did Michael answer.

“Forget it,” Alex had said, his voice lower, his phone – Kyle noticed – clenched more tightly in his hand like a nervous habit he’d forgotten about. “He’s probably busy.”

“Alex –”

“I don’t want to bother him anymore,” Alex had blurted, and seemed surprised at himself for saying it. He’d asked Kyle to let it go, and though Kyle wanted to argue, but the look on Alex’s face as he stared down at his phone, his brows furrowed and his shoulder stiff, told Kyle that it was best not to bother him with it.

Now, however, he wished he had insisted.

“Dude, I told you I was coming,” Alex chuckled as he approached. “I don’t need you to wait outside.”

Panic rose in Kyle’s chest as he thought about Michael and Maria – stupid, stupid, _stupid_ Michael and Maria – behind him, and Alex approaching. He did the only thing he could and he hurried back towards Alex.

As subtly as he could, he said, “Aw, man, it’s closed! _Sucks_! Let’s go somewhere else!”

“Closed?” Alex blinked, then checked his watch. “ _Now_?”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, then put his hands on Alex’s shoulders, turning him around and leading him back to the truck, all the while hoping the two inside couldn’t hear them and decide to come check for the source of the noise. “Whatever, man, who cares? Let’s just go get some food or something, I’m starving.”

“But I –”

“Come on, aren’t you hungry?” he said, and opened the car door for Alex to get inside.

Alex pursed his lips, then nodded. “Okay, if you…” Alex trailed off, his eyes catching something behind Kyle, and his brows furrowed.

“What?” Kyle followed his gaze. “What’s wrong…”

Then Kyle saw it, and his eyes widened.

“Maria’s car,” Alex said. “If they’re closed, why is Maria’s car here?”

Kyle looked around, hoping the explanation would appear out of nowhere and help him, but it didn’t. Alex looked curiously from Kyle, to the Wild Pony, then he moved past Kyle to the bar.

“I don’t get why you’d say it was closed,” Alex said, amusement coloring his tone. “Maria’s obviously here.”

“Y-Yeah, but,” Kyle swallowed, “th-the sign said Closed.”

“So?” Alex scoffed. “It’s _Maria_. She’ll let us in.” Alex approached the door despite Kyle’s attempt to turn him around, and he frowned. “Kyle, this sign says Open.”

He turned to Kyle. “You don’t want to go in?” Kyle said nothing, only staring intently, hoping his pleas would be heard without having to say what he’d seen. Then realization dawned, and Alex nodded. “You don’t want _me_ to go in.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

When Kyle didn’t answer, Alex huffed, annoyed, and he turned to open the door. Before he could, however, Kyle’s hand flew out and grabbed Alex’s wrist, keeping him in place.

“Alex,” he started slowly, “can’t you trust me?”

Alex blinked. “What?”

“What’s in there,” he gestured to the doors of the Wild Pony, “it’s bad, Alex, really bad. But it can only touch you – it can only ruin today – if you let it.”

Alex’s frowned deepened and he looked over his shoulder at the doors.

“Trust me, Manes,” he said. “Let me stop the bad thing from happening. Just for today, just… let me take you back to the car, and let’s _go_.”

When Alex hesitated, Kyle put a hand on his shoulder and swallowed. “One hour left. What do you wanna do?”

But Alex knew. Kyle _knew_ he did, and that he was trying hard to pretend he didn’t. Alex’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, Kyle honestly thought he would ignore his advice and walk into the bar anyway. Then, he looked to Kyle and nodded once.

“One hour left,” he said, his voice quiet though the corner of his lips turned up slightly. “Any other ideas where we can go?”

Kyle sighed, relieved, and brought an arm around Alex’s shoulders as he led him back to the car. “Tons. You’re in safe hands, Manes.”


	175. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malex fluff and smut.

Michael kissed down Alex’s spine, his hand running down Alex’s hip as the man slept peacefully beside him. Michael moved up and nuzzled his nose against the nape of Alex’s neck, his arm coming around Alex’s waist, his hand resting on his stomach.

“I love you,” he whispered against Alex’s skin. “I love you so much, Alex.”

Alex moaned in his sleep and turned to face Michael, his eyes closed, his cheeks red. Michael leaned forward and took Alex’s lips in his, and rested their foreheads together as he continued to softly peck the other man.

Alex’s hair was tousled, his lashes curled against his cheeks, his lips set in a small pout, the color of cherries. Michael gently took Alex’s lower lip between his teeth, and tugged, his hands coming up Alex’s stomach, and over his chest.

Michael’s heart thrashed in his chest, begging him to move closer, closer, _closer_ to Alex until there was no space left between them at all. He remembered the heavy anchor that weighed his body down every morning that Alex wasn’t there, the mornings he’d wake up either alone, or next to complete strangers that left him itching for them to leave so that he could breathe again. Now, as he nuzzled his nose against Alex’s cheek, he sighed deeply, and pressed a soft kiss to the warm skin. He’d never wanted to be apart from Alex. Now, he didn’t think he could bear it.

He wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist, and held onto him, his fingers stretching over his lower back. He soon felt the man shift in his hold, and he threw a leg over Alex’s, keeping him close. Alex’s eyes fluttered open, and Michael bit his lower lip.

“Good morning,” he whispered, his hand coming up to Alex’s jaw, his thumb grazing his lips.

Alex hummed in response, his eyes falling shut again as he leaned forward, tucking his head underneath Michael’s chin, nuzzled against Michael’s neck, his arm coming around Michael’s waist and resting on his back as he sighed tiredly against his chest.

Michael’s smile widened, and he leaned back enough to plant a kiss on Alex’s forehead.

“I love you,” Alex muttered as if he was dreaming the words, and Michael’s hold on him tightened.

“I love you more,” was all he said in return, though he had an ocean of words on his tongue. He wanted to tell Alex how much he loved his windswept hair, his piercing eyes, his beautiful lips, his smile, his voice, his hands, his body, his _everything_. He wanted to tell Alex that he was his absolute everything.

In the end, all he could do was shake his head, holding Alex so tightly he wondered how the both of them could still breathe, and he said, “I love you _so_ much more.”


	176. Kylex & Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Walk it off."

Alex was having a heart attack, he had to have been. His chest had felt compressed for days, his limbs trembling, his breaths coming out shallow and quick.

_“I can’t forget any of it,”_ Michael’s words rang in his ears, always ringing, ringing, _ringing_ , making it impossible for Alex to walk straight, let alone think.

_Had the cabin always been so big?_ he briefly wondered as he forced himself to his feet. He’d been laying down on the couch too long, and the wind hit him hard. He stumbled back down, every fall feeling longer, every landing harder.

_“ **Walk it off** , Manes!” _his own father’s voice echoed, and Alex could _hear_ them. The missiles whistle as they were released from his planes, the _BOOM_ as they hit the ground, the screams of every woman and child, every father and son as the fire burned them alive.

_“Being with you – it just_ hurts _.”_

“Stop,” Alex shut his eyes tight, his hands covering his ears, begging the voices to just _go away_ as he swayed on his feet again. This time, he forced himself past the headache and stumbled through the house. His leg ached, and he nearly tripped multiple times on his way to the bathroom. He braced himself against the sink, pressing his forehead against the cool faucet.

_“Take aim, soldier!”_

“No, stop, please –”

_“Is the target acquired?”_

“No,” Alex looked up, catching his reflection in the mirror. He squinted through the migraine. That man… he didn’t look like Alex, he looked like –

“Dad?” he whispered.

Jesse said nothing as he glared at Alex, every bit of hatred Alex had ever known from him pushed into one look.

Alex shook his head slowly, his eyes burning, quickly filling with unshed tears. “No, I’m – I’m me, I’m not you, I’m Alex, I –”

_“And you look just like him, Alex,”_ Michael had said, and Alex’s words caught in his throat. _“I’m sorry, but you – you look just like him.”_

Alex didn’t know what happened. One moment, the whispers filled his ears, drilling into his brain, shattering his heart slowly, and the next, there was a loud _crack_ , and Alex’s mirror laid broken around his feet, his fist and arm covered in glass shards.

But the whispers wouldn’t stop. They never, _ever_ stopped. Everywhere Alex turned, there was his father’s reflection looking back at him, his brothers, all taunting him, all loathing him, all reminding him that he was a Manes, and being a Manes meant being a killer. Being a Manes meant pain.

Alex gasped, and shattered every reflection with his bare knuckles, the wails of war caught in his head, the chill in his spine growing colder and colder and _colder_ until it was just Alex, alone in the shadows – no warmth, no help, no love, no _nothing_ –

“ALEX, STOP!” he heard the voice before he felt arms holding him from behind.

Alex fought back, but as the voice kept speaking to him, he realized who it was that was wrapped around him.

He went limp, panting. “Kyle…”

“Alex,” Kyle breathed, and Alex could feel the older man’s heart race against his back. Kyle clenched his jaw as if he was terrified. Either that, or angry. Why would he be angry? “What did you do?”

Alex followed Kyle’s gaze, and frowned. The ground was covered with so much glass that it looked like it had snowed inside, but his arm was absolutely littered with shards. His skin was cut, bleeding down his fingers and staining the carpet.

He swallowed and shook his head. “I-I just… I just wanted them to stop.”

“Stop?” Kyle slowly released Alex when he realized he wasn’t going to break any more mirrors. “Stop who, Alex?”

Alex opened his mouth to tell him, but he realized something, and his brows furrowed. “The voices, the… they’re gone now. How is that possible?”

Kyle looked confused and afraid, though it was a different kind of fear, Alex realized, than the kind he’d seen on Michael. Kyle had kept his hand on Alex’s shoulder, as if ready to catch him if he fell.

“You’re not scared of me, are you?”

Kyle sighed, gently holding up Alex’s arm. “ _Of_ you? Not really. _For_ you, quite a bit actually, yeah. God, Alex, look at your skin.”

“I’m fine,” Alex muttered, looking down at his torn hand.

“Fine,” Kyle repeated. “That’s great. Come on, I’m gonna patch you up.”

Alex rubbed his face, not caring about the blood smudging his temples. “No, the – uh – the floor, I have to sweep up the –”

“ _Alex_ ,” he said, and Alex was instantly reminded of that twelve-year-old boy who’d stood as a shield to protect him when he thought Jesse had come to take a swing at him.

_“As long as I’m around, you’re safe, okay?”_

Alex took a deep breath and followed, expecting the nightmares to suddenly jump out at him, to tell him that he was a monster, that he was just like his father, that he broke whoever he touched.

“Come on,” Kyle said, then came around Alex, and gently led him out the door.

By the time Kyle had finished, the sun had set, and Alex’s entire arm was covered in bandages, down to his fingertips.

Kyle squinted at the small plate of bloodied glass shards that he’d spent hours carefully removing from Alex’s arm, despite the fact that Alex had reassured him that he had a high pain tolerance and didn’t have to be treated so delicately.

“Just because you can take pain doesn’t mean you always should,” he’d said. “Don’t you ever look after yourself, Manes?”

Alex had said nothing for the entirety of Kyle’s work, unable to help but be reminded of Michael’s confession over and over again, his decision to be with one of the few people left that Alex had trusted. He had been dismissed, thrown away. He was broken, a result of _decades_ of war, and orders, and fire, and blood, and _death_ –

“Hey,” Kyle nudged his knee, snapping him out of his thoughts, “did you hear me?”

Alex’s eyes focused on Kyle’s face, and despite his smile, Alex could tell he was worried. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Kyle’s smile turned small. “I’m your friend. It’s hard not to look at you like this.”

“Friend,” he whispered, and scoffed, a tear involuntarily escaping and running down his cheek before Alex immediately wiped it away.

Kyle’s jaw clenched and he nodded slowly. “I heard about… that, you know. The thing with –”

“Don’t,” Alex said. “I’m not surprised anyway.”

Kyle’s brows furrowed. “I am. Alex, when Guerin talked about you –”

“He said I looked just like my dad,” Alex said, his voice cracked. “He said I… he told me…”

“ _Guerin_ said that?”

Alex shook his head, another tear falling. “He’s right. I see him all the time, Kyle, _every time_ , wherever I turn, he’s right there, watching me –”

“Hey, Manes, calm down, stop,” Kyle ran a hand up Alex’s shoulder, settling it against Alex’s jaw. “It’s okay, he’s not here. He’s in the hospital, remember? In a _coma_. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Alex hugged his arm, his lower lip trembling, his jaw clenched, his tears falling despite himself. He didn’t trust himself to speak, not now.

“And Guerin,” Kyle huffed, shaking his head. “Forget what he said. You’re not your dad, Alex, you’re _you_.”

But the whispers were already coming back, and Alex’s nails dug into his arm. “I’ll never be rid of it,” he choked. “The Manes blood, it’ll never leave, Kyle, I’m just stuck with it.”

“Alex –”

“— ever since I was a kid, all I wanted was to _escape_ , but now I know –”

“—You have to stop –”

“—I never will. A soldier, that’s all I am, it’s all I’m good for –”

“— Alex, you’re hyperventilating, you’re gonna pass out –"

“— Every time I look in the mirror, I see a monster, and I thought – I thought he saw better, but I was wrong.” Alex ducked his head, sobbing silently, his face burning as he tried to breathe through his cries. “I was… I was wrong.”

The lack of air made it hard for him to sit up straight, and he lost balance until Kyle’s hand guided his head to rest on his own shoulder.

“Hey, _hey_ , it’s okay,” Kyle shushed softly as the hand on Alex’s jaw came around to the back of his head, his other hand on Alex’s back, soothing. “It’s okay, Manes, you’re okay.”

“I’m so tired,” he breathed, his fists tightening in Kyle’s jacket, desperate for something to hold onto. If he fell again, he worried he would crash. “I’m so tired.”

“Okay, that’s okay,” Kyle said, his hold on Alex’s tightening. “You’re gonna be okay. I promise, everything’s gonna be fine.”

Alex shut his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath through grit teeth as the whispers faded once again, and he wondered why being so close to Kyle helped his mind go quiet.


	177. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wish I could sleep."

“Do you ever wish you could fly?”

Alex gave no response, and resisted the urge to groan when he felt Michael poke him in his sleep. “Alex, wake up.”

“You’ve had a crap ton to drink tonight,” Alex said, tightening his hold on Michael’s waist and nuzzling against his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be passed out by now?”

“I mean, flying. That’s more useful than speed, right? I think it is.” No response, then, “Alex, hey, Alex, don’t you think flying’s better than superspeed?”

Alex hummed, inhaling Michael’s scent, hoping it’d be enough to lull him back to sleep.

But then –

“Or invisibility. That’s pretty cool, too. Alex, don’t you wish you could be invisible?”

“ **I wish I could sleep** ,” Alex muttered, and was received with silence. For a moment, he thought Michael had fallen asleep himself, and he settled more comfortably against him.

He’d barely managed to press his lips to Michael’s shoulder when he felt him stir, and he said, “That’s _boring_!”

“Oh,” Alex winced at the loud whine, hiding his face in Michael’s shoulder. Michael seemed to think Alex wanted to get closer because he wrapped both arms around Alex and hugged him tightly enough that it became difficult to breathe. Still, Alex chuckled tiredly.

“You have, like… the _best_ laugh.”

“Wow, you’re _still_ hammered,” Alex said, smiling as his hand went from Michael’s chest, down to his stomach, and up again. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and leaned up to press a soft kiss to Michael’s jaw. “Have you just been awake this entire time?”

“You know you hold on tighter to me when you’re asleep,” Michael said, looking down at Alex with a soft smile, his eyes shining. “I love that.”

Alex leaned back, bringing a hand up to Michael’s neck. “If you want me to touch you more, just tell me.”

Michael leaned in, smirking, and whispered, “I want you to touch me.”

“ _Now_?” Alex laughed, but brought his hands down, nonetheless. Michael sighed contentedly as Alex’s fingers stretched over his hairy chest, then he ran his hands down to feel his stomach. Michael bit his lower lip and moaned, leaning into Alex as he moved his hands around Michael’s waist, then up and down his back.

Michael breathed his name as he pulled them closer together.

Alex smiled, softly taking Michael’s lips in his. “You sound like you’re going to fall asleep.”

“ _Man_ , you smell good,” he muttered, nuzzling his nose against Alex’s.

“Yep,” Alex said, closing his eyes as he hugged Michael tightly. “Definitely falling asleep.”

Michael hummed, pressing his lips against Alex’s forehead as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Around an hour later, Alex was sure Michael was out, but he stayed awake, watching him softly breathe. After a moment, he smiled.

“Hey,” he whispered, “you hold on a little tighter, too.”


	178. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm going back to bed."

Alex woke to a rapping at the door. In a hurry, he’d placed his prosthetic on, but he must’ve missed a strap or something because it pinched his skin as he walked, and he had to refrain from wincing with every step.

He’d spent enough of his life listening carefully for his father’s footsteps, training himself to identify incoming threats, and whoever was at his door was panicked, which was why he had no hesitation answering.

He’d barely gotten the door ajar when it was shoved open, and with the single breath of Alex’s name, Michael rushed in, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist, his hug so sudden that Alex would’ve fallen backwards had Michael not been holding onto him.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” Michael muttered into his shoulder, his hold on him tightening.

Under any other circumstance, Alex might’ve held Michael back, if just in concern for him. He might’ve stroked Michael’s back, softly shushing him, trying to calm him down, but since that day he’d decided to go to the Wild Pony after having spent countless hours waiting for him, Alex just didn’t feel comfortable being anywhere near Michael. Even now, his touch that had brought his heart such peace once only made him squirm as if there was a deep chill in his bones that he couldn’t get rid of.

“G-Guerin,” he tried, cursing himself for stuttering, “come on, let go.”

Michael pulled back, but only far enough to hold Alex’s face in his hands, his eyes running over his features, and Alex now realized that Michael was dressed in only a white t-shirt, sweatpants, and cowboy boots. Had he rushed out of his trailer in the middle of the night?

“You’re okay,” Michael kept saying, as if trying to reassure himself more than anything else, though Alex felt his hands tremble against his skin.

“Of course, I’m okay,” Alex said, pulling Michael’s hands down and stepping back. “Guerin, what’re you doing here, what happened?”

Michael held his hands up in front of him for a moment before he slowly brought them down. “I, uh, felt something.”

“Something pretty bad, I’m guessing?” Alex raised a brow. “If you had to rush all the way here.”

Michael didn’t deny hurrying over, and he visibly swallowed before he said, “I saw you die. You got a gunshot wound to your chest, and you were…”

Alex shook his head. “That sound like a nightmare, Guerin.”

“It felt so _real_. Like, I could feel you fading away in my arms. Next thing I knew, I was in my trailer.”

“A lot of nightmares feel real,” Alex said, and despite himself, he saw flashes of the war that’d been haunting him every night. “But they’re not. I’m standing right in front of you, aren’t I?”

Alex thought he’d chosen his words poorly because the longer he stood, the more he felt his prosthetic shift underneath him, threatening to fall away completely.

Michael must’ve noticed because he started guiding Alex onto the couch, his hands tight on his shoulders. “You shouldn’t be standing right now. Sit.”

Alex couldn’t help but groan as he took the pressure off his leg, and soon after that, Michael’s hands on him was all he could feel. He shrugged, hoping Michael would get the message and move away, but his hands only slid from Alex’s shoulders to his arms.

“Guerin, stop it, I told you I’m fine,” he tried to move Michael’s hands off him, but Michael held on.

“I thought you were going to die,” Michael said, shaking his head. “I’d never been more terrified in my life.”

Alex went silent, even as Michael’s hands came around and forced Alex’s body to turn towards him, his grip on Alex’s arms unbearably tight.

“I knew you’d be okay, but… it’s like I couldn’t believe it until I saw it.”

Alex’s heart jumped at the words, and his fists clenched, ordering it to calm down. Michael’s words meant nothing now. He’d spent so much time waiting for just one kind word from the man he loved above everyone else, and at the time when Alex had finally regained some of that hope he thought he’d lost forever, it was dashed to the ground by Michael himself.

Now, Alex realized, that kind word he’d been waiting for just wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

“Guerin,” he tugged on Michael’s fingers, “let go of me already.”

“ _Alex_ –”

“I’m serious,” Alex said, and maybe Michael had recognized his pain, had recognized the lack of faith Alex had in him, the lack of faith Alex had in _anything_ , because his hands which had been leaving what Alex was sure were to be bruises by morning, slid down.

“So that’s it?” Michael said. “Me touching you makes you that sick?”

Alex swallowed and attempted to stand. “ **I’m going back to bed**.”

“I’m not leaving,” Michael said, tugging an already stumbling Alex back onto the couch.

Alex huffed, taking his arm from Michael’s hold and tried again to stand, but the pressure on his leg was too much. He wanted to take the prosthetic off, but his crutch was in his bedroom.

Still, he tried to push through the pain, and said, “Suit yourself.”

“Alex, you won’t even _look_ at me, just –”

Michael snapped and took hold of Alex’s arms, not only pulling back down to the couch, but laying him on his back, hovering over him so that in an instant, Michael had Alex caged underneath him.

Alex clenched his jaw, pushing at Michael’s chest, still unable to help but turn his face away. “Guerin, get off!”

“Not until you look at me. Just once, Alex, just _look at me_!”

“Guerin –”

“Why is it so hard for you? Just _once_ –”

“I can’t!”

Michael was silent a moment, then said in a voice barely over a whisper, “Why not?”

Alex felt his breath fan his cheek, and while his heart thrashed in his chest, his mind wouldn’t stop replaying Michael’s face as he’d told him that being with him hurt, that he could only associate him with pain.

He shook his head, his eyes already burning, and he said, “You couldn’t tell the difference.”

Michael’s brows furrowed, and Alex inhaled a deep, shaky breath. “My father and brothers are monsters. For the longest time, I’ve lived _terrified_ that I would turn into them, and for the longest time, I made sure that didn’t happen. But no matter what, every time I looked in the mirror, it was like part of myself was gone, and it was just my father staring back at me. I couldn’t tell the difference between him and me anymore.”

Alex swallowed, a tear running down the bridge of his nose. “Still, I thought it was fine, because I told _you_. Because part of me knew that _you_ would never see that. Because you had faith in me, and no matter what, I was just Alex to you… until I wasn’t. I thought as long as you saw me, that I was fine… but when things got bad enough, you couldn’t tell the difference, either.”

He sighed, another tear falling as he closed his eyes. “Okay? _That’s_ why I can’t look at you, so will you please, _please_ , just get off me now?”

There was a moment of utter silence, then Alex felt the body heat above him disappear, the weight on the couch gone, and instead of watching Guerin leave, he covered his face with his hands, turning his head into the couch. Even as he heard the door close, the sound of Michael’s truck leave his driveway, he kept his face hidden, the pain in his leg coursing throughout his entire body.


	179. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Your heart is pounding."

Michael breathed heavily as he pressed against Alex’s back, their bodies melding perfectly together as Michael’s cock adjusted to Alex’s tight hole. It’d been too long since they’d been able to touch each other like this. Too long since Michael had been able to run his hands up and down Alex’s sides, to nuzzle his nose against the nape of Alex’s neck, inhaling the incredible smell of wood, and maple syrup, and sweat.

He brought his hands around to Alex’s chest, feeling his chest hair, pressing his fingers against his nipples, caressing his stomach. Every time Michael kissed Alex’s shoulder, or bit his skin, or thrusted into him, Alex made these cute little sounds in the back of his throat that fueled the fire in Michael’s gut, urging him to make his kisses wetter, to bite harder, to thrust deeper.

“Guerin,” Alex whispered, and Michael swallowed. He suddenly pulled out, and turned Alex around, roughly slamming him against the wall, slipping in all the way, only pausing when he was deep inside him, the two of them breathing heavily.

“Say my name,” he breathed. “I want to hear you.”

Alex searched his face, his hands on Michael’s shoulders, his grip so tight that Michael thought he might just come with the strength of it.

The airman bit his lower lip, and in that moment, Michael thought he could not have looked better. His hair was tousled, his dark eyes regarding Michael hungrily, his body compliant to his touch, his cheeks and lips red as he slowly breathed in and out. Michael pressed a kiss to Alex’s neck, lingering there as they both adjusted to their position.

Michael started thrusting, panting against Alex’s lips. “Say it, Alex, say my name.”

“Michael,” Alex breathed, and Michael moaned, thrusting particularly roughly.

“Again,” he commanded, and Alex’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, keeping their foreheads together.

“Michael, Michael, Michael.” Michael slammed into his prostate, and he screamed out.

Michael smiled as he slowly raised a hand to Alex’s chest, stretching his fingers, and he whispered, “ **Your heart is pounding**.”

Alex released a shaky breath, bringing his hands around to hold Michael’s face. Michael leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, his mouth hanging open as he and Alex came together. They panted against each other’s mouths, and Michael’s eyes opened halfway. He stared at Alex for a moment before pulling him in, devouring his lips.

The two moaned deeply, Michael’s arm tight around Alex’s waist to keep him steady and close.

“I love you,” Michael breathed. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Michael.” Alex’s thumb softly caressed Michael’s cheek as he spoke, his eyes glimmering with such a fondness before he closed the distance between them and kissed Michael’s lips. This kiss wasn’t heated or hungry, but soft and slow, and Michael couldn’t help tilting his head and deepening it.

In the end, as they laid on the couch, the cabin empty and silent, save for the sound of their soft breathing, Michael looked down at Alex who was curled against his side, and watched him sleep, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. He ran a hand through his hair, gently moving his bangs from his forehead.

Alex murmured in his sleep and cuddled closer to Michael, his lips against Michael’s neck. Michael’s smiled widened, and he hugged Alex closer, closing his own eyes, and sighing contentedly.


	180. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's too early for this."

Michael groaned, slumping against the doorframe. When he hadn’t woken up to Alex’s warm body curled against his, warding off the cold, he’d wondered where he was. Now, he knew.

“No, forget it,” he said as he walked into the kitchen where Alex, who was seated on the counter, was having his recently sealed wound looked at by Kyle. “ **It’s too early for this**.”

Kyle looked over his shoulder at him, a brow raised. “It’s noon.”

“What did I say?” Michael said, and went to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. As he did, he checked his watch. Ever since Alex had been shot, Michael himself had insisted he get it checked every day until it properly healed, but Alex had said he didn’t trust anyone but Kyle to check it and keep it a secret. So they compromised. Still, actually seeing Kyle’s face in their cabin, seeing him touch Alex, it got under his skin. “Alex, I thought Valenti was only supposed to show up when I wasn’t here. No, wait, I take that back, I don’t want him here when I’m not here.”

Alex smiled, though Michael didn’t miss the way his brows furrowed, or the way his jaw clenched, or the way his hands tightened to fists against the wood. He was in pain.

He frowned, and set the bottle on the table before coming around to stand beside Alex, his hand on his back. “Hey, you okay?”

But Michael didn’t need an answer, because now that he was close enough, he saw that Alex’s bullet wound stopped looking like it had happened a few weeks ago, and instead, looked fresh, as if someone had just torn into his stomach.

“What the hell did you do?” he asked Valenti, his voice rising.

“The only thing I’m doing is helping Alex,” Kyle said, his tone curt, but his focus on Alex’s cut. “He’s the one that called me to seal this back up.”

Michael looked to Alex for some kind of explanation, but his boyfriend had his eyes shut, exhaling long, shaky breaths as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Michael ran a hand through Alex’s hair, pushing his bangs back.

When he was able to speak, he said, “I was doing some work, and I – I accidentally cut it open. Stupid.”

“No, hey,” Michael kissed his cheek, his hand soothing on his back. “This kinda stuff happens, it’s okay.”

Alex huffed, and Michael didn’t know whether it was supposed to be a chuckle or a sob. “I don’t want to know how you know that.”

“You’ve got to be more careful, Alex,” Kyle sighed, and even Michael couldn’t deny the concern in his voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to have to call you all the way here.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “It’s you, of course I’m going to come.”

Michael stared. “Okay, Dr. Cheekbones, if you absolutely have to be here, could you not flirt with my boyfriend?”

“I’m not flirting with him, Guerin,” Kyle rolled his eyes. “I’m being honest.”

“Oh, that’s better,” Michael glared. “Why don’t you just propose right in front of me, too?”

“You are _such_ a child, you know that?”

“In fact, don’t even talk to him, I don’t want you talking to him.”

“Alex, I don’t know why you ever decided to date the biggest asshole in Roswell, but –”

“Takes one to know one.”

“It _really_ doesn’t.”

“Well –”

“Stop fighting!” Alex snapped, and winced, leaning his head back and trying to control his breathing.

The two instantly went quiet, and Michael put his hand on Alex’s bare chest as it rapidly rose and fell. “Okay, I’m sorry, Alex, we won’t fight, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Alex,” Kyle said in a soft tone that Michael had yet to hear him ever use with anyone other than Alex, “it won’t happen again, just stay calm.”

He glared at Kyle who was glaring right back, and through their silence, Michael knew that despite their differences, they both had one very serious thing in common; they cared about Alex.

With a sigh, the two looked away from one another, Michael’s attention back on Alex who had his hand around Michael’s wrist, keeping him close. Michael kissed his temple, and when Alex winced again, he brought an arm around his shoulders, and pulled him close to his chest.

“Isn’t there any kind of anesthetic you could give him?”

“Nothing I can safely administer here,” Kyle said in that doctor tone he used when he wanted to prove himself the smarter of the two of them. “Hold on, Alex, I’m almost done.”

“I’m fine,” he said through grit teeth.

Michael kissed his cheek, his temple, and it was only when Kyle patted the scar with cotton swabs and said, “There!” was Alex able to melt into his hold.

He panted in Michael’s arms, and Michael ran his hand up and down his side, his lips pressed against Alex’s hair.

“Thank you,” Alex told Kyle once he was able to properly breathe.

“You can thank me by looking after yourself,” Kyle said, packing his tools away. “It’s a few weeks, Alex, you can survive a few weeks without doing anything strenuous.”

He nodded, and Michael held him tighter as Kyle placed a comforting hand on his bare shoulder. After he left, Alex chuckled, tiredly pulling away from Michael’s chest.

“Okay, he’s gone, you don’t have to hug me to death now.”

“Screw him,” Michael said, and brought Alex back to his chest, kissing the top of his head. “I told you, Alex, if you need anything done, just tell me to do it.”

Alex shook his head, bringing his arms around Michael’s waist to hug him. “It still sounds weird, hearing you talk like that. I’m used to hearing it from Kyle, but you…”

“Yeah, I don’t really do it that often, do I?” he joked, then his face fell, and he pulled back to an amused Alex. “The hell do you mean, _you’re used to hearing it from Kyle_?!”


	181. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm alive?"

Michael opened his eyes to a white ceiling. He groaned, every bone in his body aching as he tried to sit up, struggling to remember what had happened. Then the throbbing migraine came back full force, and he winced, clenching his jaw, the memory of last night hitting him all at once.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” a soft, familiar voice said, and Michael’s heart rose into his throat as he slowly looked over and found Alex leaning forward in his chair, his fingers intertwined. Michael took note of the white walls, and beakers and bottles of medicine. He was in a hospital, and he should’ve been more concerned about that – he and his siblings were never to end up in a hospital – but all he could focus on was Alex. “Though, yours is probably worse than any headache I’ve ever had.”

Michael slightly shook his head, and even that pained him. “You’re here, am I… **I’m alive?** ” Alex gave half a smile, brief and quick, and he shrugged a shoulder. Michael swallowed and stared back up at the ceiling. “Damn it.”

Alex said nothing for a while, then, “Do you remember anything?”

Michael closed his eyes. “I lost control again.”

“Yeah, you did,” Alex said, his expression inexplicable.

Michael stared, then, “I didn’t know I could give myself those kinds of headaches, Alex.”

“Well,” he sighed and leaned back, crossing his arms, “that makes it better.”

He swallowed. “Are you seriously angry at me right –”

“You could’ve died,” he said through grit teeth, though Michael heard the tremble in his words. “For a split second, I thought you had.”

And it was then that Michael noticed it. The dark circles under Alex’s eyes, the slight tremor in his fingers, the way his good leg tapped nervously on the floor, like Alex had had too many cups of coffee and not nearly half as much rest.

“When was the last time you slept?” he blurted, and Alex held his gaze, his expression giving nothing away. Michael’s frown deepened. _Something was wrong with him._

“Kyle’s been keeping other doctors and nurses out all day,” he said, ignoring Michael’s concerns. “But after Max had come in to make sure you were okay, Kyle had real patients to take care of, so he told me to tell you that you’re free to leave whenever you feel well enough.”

“And you? Are you okay?”

“Guerin,” Alex closed his eyes, frustrated, and stood, uncrossing his arms, “ _forget_ about me –”

“No,” Michael said simply, his voice barely over a whisper.

Alex approached the bed, leaned in, and in a quiet voice, said, “I’m transferring out of Roswell, whether you like it or not.”

Michael clenched his jaw. “No.”

“And none of these temper tantrums are going to change that.”

“ _No_ , Alex.”

“ _Guerin_ –”

But Michael wouldn’t hear the rest of it. He moved to sit up, wincing as he tried, but he soon felt Alex’s warm hands on his shoulders and back, helping him against his pillow.

Alex pulled one hand back, another still on Michael’s arm, and Michael noticed Alex stare at it, as if asking why it was still holding on.

“See?” he whispered, bringing a hand to Alex’s waist to pull him closer. “You can’t let go either.”

Alex glanced at Michael’s lips, and Michael tilted his head up, trying to capture Alex’s mouth in his, but then something shifted in the airman’s expression, like he’d realized something. After that, it looked like he was using everything he had to pull away, bring Michael’s hand down, and step back, and as his fingers grasped at nothing, he saw the glimmer in Alex’s eyes fade. Michael felt a gaping hole in his heart as every bit of fondness and admiration that Alex ever carried for him in his gaze suddenly disappeared, leaving behind someone numb and broken.

He shook his head, his brows furrowed. “No, wait a minute –”

“I’m tired of loving you,” Alex said, placing his hands in his pockets, and for the first time since Michael had known him, the airman looked completely resigned. “I’m tired of getting hurt, and losing, and looking around the room just to see that… I’m alone. There’s never anyone there, Guerin.” He inhaled a shaky breath, his eyes filling with tears. “You have Max, and Isobel, and now you have Maria and Liz, and I…”

Alex sniffed, then wiped his eyes. “You’re so loved, Guerin. You have so many people who would do anything for you, who would stand by you. I was just someone you needed for a bit, and now you don’t need me anymore, so _please_ … _let me go_.”

Michael cursed himself for the tears that formed in his eyes, though none would fall. His fingers dug into sheets, his jaw clenched so tightly that he tasted blood, and his heart thrashed wildly in his chest in a panic, terrified that Alex was saying goodbye, that he _meant_ it, that he was going to leave him for good.

_I always need you_ , he wanted to say. _I don’t want to stay in Roswell if you’re not here_. _I love you so much it hurts, please don’t leave me._

But in the end, all Michael could say was, “ _No_ ,” and a tear slid down Alex’s cheek. After a moment, he nodded silently, then turned and left the room, the limp in his step seemingly heavier. Michael tried reaching out, but his migraine was still too painful, and he found using his powers, even to just keep Alex from leaving him now, was impossible.

“Come back,” he said softly after the door was shut, and when Alex didn’t, he leaned back in his bed, his fists tightening in his blanket, his eyes on the door. _He’ll be back_ , Michael thought. _He’ll be back for me._ He swallowed. Alex was definitely coming back.


	182. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sorry about that."

A smirk stretched across Michael’s lips as he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched Alex pull a bottle of water out of the fridge. He’d just taken a shower, his hair was wet and he wore nothing but a towel around his hips. He had his crutch at his side, and Michael could only stare at the muscle in his arms, the way his back clenched as he moved around, and he licked his lips.

“My legs are killing me,” Alex said as Michael approached him. “I hope you know it’s entirely your fault.”

Michael came behind Alex, his hands around his waist, his fingers stretching over the expanse of naked skin. He hummed as he pressed a kiss to the space between Alex’s shoulders. “ **Sorry about that**.”

Alex scoffed, but covered Michael’s hand on his stomach with his own. “No, you’re not.”

Michael’s smile widened as he kneeled behind Alex, his nose pressed to the base of his spine. “No, not even a little.”

Michael kissed the skin, placing another wet kiss a little lower. He tried tugging the towel down, but Alex suddenly turned around, taking hold of his fingers.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, and Michael couldn’t miss the hitch in his voice. “I promised Liz we’d meet up today, and I can’t be late.”

Michael softly bit the skin beneath Alex’s bellybutton, and reveled in his boyfriend’s gasp, the way his hand on Michael’s tightened. “Cancel,” he drawled. “Stay here with me.”

Alex tugged Michael upwards, and he stood, Alex’s hands on his jaw, his touch light, his dark eyes searching Michael’s face before he kissed him softly. Michael moaned as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his hands running up and down Alex’s sides, keeping him safe as Alex leaned his weight against him.

He made a noise of protest when Alex pulled back, chasing his lips only for Alex to chuckle, nuzzling their noses together. “I’ve already chosen you twice this week, Guerin, she’s starting to get jealous. And believe me, you do _not_ want a jealous Liz on your head.”

“You don’t think I can take her?” Michael feigned offense, one hand reach around to lightly dig his nails into Alex’s bare back.

Alex shivered, leaning in close enough that his breath fanned Michael’s lips, their foreheads pressed together, and Michael’s tongue darted out, licking Alex’s lips just before he whispered, “I know you can’t.”

And he pulled back, leaning on his crutch, though Michael refused to let go. He hugged Alex’s back as he took big gulps from his water bottle, hooking his chin over Alex’s shoulder.

“Thirsty?” he asked quietly, and Alex pulled away, suddenly choking on his water. Michael hit his back, barely containing his laughter. “I didn’t expect you to get so flustered!”

“Get away from me,” Alex slapped his hand away, wiping his chin with a towel. “Go, shoo.”

“Oh, come on, Alex,” Michael barked a laugh despite himself, and called after Alex who was heading to the bedroom to change. “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry!”

“No, you’re not!” Alex yelled back, and Michael smiled, biting his lower lip.

“No,” he said softly, his heart filled with a fondness he didn’t ever think was possible, all at the thought of Alex – _his_ Alex. “Not even a little bit.”


	183. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I own you."

“Guerin, let go of me – _ow_!” Alex tried and tried, but no matter how hard he pulled, Michael’s deathlike grip on his wrist was relentless.

But Michael couldn’t help it. He’d walked into the bar, searching, half-frantic, for Alex who Liz had mentioned had been off on a date. Michael’s grip on Alex tightened as he thought of Liz’s face when she’d said it – so happy, as if it had been a _good_ thing.

Michael had just registered her words before he was out the door and on his way to find his Alex, curled up in a booth beside some stranger, smiling cutely, the way he hadn’t since he was seventeen. And he snapped. He’d stood in front of the booth, Alex having barely noticed him, the question of _“What are you doing here?”_ on his lips when Michael reached for his wrist, pulled him out, and hadn’t let go since.

“I said _stop_ ,” he gasped, and Michael could feel him faltering behind him. “Guerin, my leg –” he winced, and Michael froze, turning around just as Alex came stumbling into his chest.

Michael instinctively brought his arms around him, holding him tightly. He said nothing as Alex’s hands tightened to fists against his chest, the airman panting in his hold, and Michael realized with increasing guilt that in his haste to take Alex with him, he’d forgotten that he couldn’t move as quickly as he used to.

“Alex, are you –”

But whatever Michael wanted to say, Alex apparently didn’t want to hear it as he huffed and roughly pushed away from the cowboy’s hold.

“What the hell, Guerin?” Alex said, and Michael, for a split second, was reminded of that seventeen-year-old who’d caught Michael with his guitar outside the school. Still, he tried to remember, this wasn’t him. That boy had died a long time ago at the hands of Jesse Manes and a war he’d never wanted to be a part of. Now, a man stood in his place. A man, evidently, who dated other men.

And that thought of other men, men who put their hands on Alex, who smiled at Alex like he was theirs, who leaned in to Alex – it drove all rational thought from Michael’s head, and he clenched his jaw.

“You’re going on dates now?” he said. “Since when?”

Alex blinked, then he seemed to realize something and his frown deepened. “That’s none of your business.”

Michael stared. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me, Guerin,” Alex said. “We’re not together, so –”

“We’re supposed to love each other!” Michael said. “And this is how you –”

“I _did_ love you!” he snapped, and Michael went silent. “You’re the one who never showed up, Guerin, you made your choice.” He panted, then said, “Now live with it.”

He turned to leave, but Michael stepped forward and grabbed his arm. “Don’t go back there.”

Alex didn’t turn to face him, but when he spoke, his voice was steady and curt, “Let go of me.”

“Don’t go back to _him_.”

“ _Guerin_ –”

“Leave him there, Alex. Just leave him there, and come back with me.”

Alex whipped around, his arms still in Michael’s hold. “You have _no_ right to give me orders.”

Michael’s eyes widened and he growled, pushing Alex against the brick building beside them, his arm against Alex’s chest, keeping him from leaving.

He leaned in close enough that their noses brushed, and he whispered, “ **I own you**. Understand? _I own you_ , Alex, and I said you were coming back with me.”

But Alex held his gaze, his brows furrowed, as if he saw something Michael couldn’t. “No,” he said, and Michael grit his teeth so hard his jaw trembled.

“Yes,” he said. “Alex, I _know_ you, and I know that no matter what, you love me more than you could ever love anyone else. Choose me.”

Alex swallowed, and Michael was shocked to see his eyes glistening, the way they only ever did around the cowboy. “You didn’t.”

Alex’s words were soft, but Michael turned stiff and staggered backwards, releasing him, though the airman didn’t move.

Michael stared at the ground, shaking his head. “How long are you going to punish me for that?” When he looked up, he saw that Alex had turned his eyes away. “You can’t even _look_ at me, Alex, it’s – it’s killing me.”

He stepped closely to Alex again, taking his arms, his hold gentle this time, pleading. “Just – Just tell me what I can do to fix this. Tell me how, Alex, _please_.” He hesitated, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Alex’s lips. When Alex didn’t react, Michael felt the earlier panic rise in his chest, and he kissed the corner of Alex’s mouth.

“Please, Alex,” he muttered, kissing Alex’s cheek, then his jaw. “Please.” He kissed Alex’s neck, then came back up to his jaw, then his lips, kissing him repeatedly, breathing Alex’s name. He hoped he would feel Alex press his lips firmly to his, feel Alex’s hands rise to hold his waist, feel Alex lean into his touch, but instead –

“You wanted her,” Alex whispered, and Michael froze with his cheek against his. When he pulled back, he saw Alex looking at the ground, as if it pained him to even glance at Michael. “I wanted you, and you wanted _her_ , and I can’t…” a tear slid down his cheek, “I can’t forgive you for that, Guerin. I’ve tried, I swear, I’ve _tried_ so hard… but I just can’t.”

Michael’s hands trembled against Alex, and after a moment, they fell back to his side. He wanted so desperately to hold on tighter, to kiss Alex until he felt him melt into his hold, to bury his face in the crook of Alex’s neck and inhale his scent, to forget anyone else existed but the two of them… but one look at Alex’s face, and Michael knew that wouldn’t be possible, because Alex saw another face between them. Because when Alex looked at him, he couldn’t help but see his betrayal.

“Okay, Alex,” he found himself saying before he could stop himself, his brain taking control and telling him that he’d done enough. “Okay.”

And before he could tell Alex that he wanted to take it back, that he loved him too much to let him go, his body turned and walked away, leaving the airman there. Whether Alex watched him leave or not, Michael had no idea.


	184. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Get on your knees."

They’d fought well, but not well enough. When Michael had asked Alex to help him break into a separate branch of Project Shepherd in an attempt to hack their files and gather enough information to find out what their plans were and figure out exactly how to stop them, he’d known it was going to be dangerous. He just didn’t consider that it would be Alex with the gun to his head, a man larger than both Michael and Alex put together pressing the tip of the weapon in Alex’s hair tauntingly.

There were five other men surrounding Michael, keeping their guns aimed at him, the alarm that had called them to the main computer room still blaring in the background.

But Michael didn’t care about any of them, about their gazes fixed at him like robots, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. All he could see was Alex, his jaw clenched, his eyes on Michael, his breaths coming out shallow and quick.

He was in pain, Michael knew he was. He knelt slightly on his good leg, undoubtedly using every bit of strength he had to keep the pain in his right leg localized.

“Kindly move your gun away from him,” Michael said, his glare shifting to the big ugly thug threatening his airman, “before I blow your head up.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you can,” he smirked, “but I don’t think you will.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” he said. “See, there really isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to protect him, so if you think a few dead bodies scare me –”

“No, no, _I know_ all of that,” he chuckled and stood closer to Alex, bringing his arm around his shoulders, his gun never leaving Alex’s head, his other hand on Alex’s other shoulder so it looked like he was holding Alex from behind. “I know who this soldier boy is, I know who he is to _you_ , and I know what you are.” He smirked. “I know what you can do. But here’s the thing,” he brought his head closer to Alex, almost nuzzling against him, “I’m a tough guy, and I’m fully prepared to feel my body betray me. In which case, I will use every bit of my strength to pull the trigger here, and blow his pretty head off.”

He grabbed Alex’s chin roughly, his nose pressed against Alex’s cheek as he kept his eyes on Michael. “But please, if you’re so sure of your own abilities, and you can risk your boyfriend’s life here, do have a go, and let’s see what happens!”

Michael’s hands tightened to fists. He wanted to – he _wanted_ to tear the thug’s arm from his body, to hear him scream, to break each finger he was using to touch Alex… but he couldn’t. He saw his finger on the trigger, ready to pull. If he bent it just a little bit –

He shuddered involuntarily and the thug’s malicious smile widened. “ _That’s_ right,” he cooed, his hand slid down to Alex’s shoulder again, and Alex turned away, looking ill.

“Get your filthy hands off him,” Michael growled.

The thug shook his head, seemingly amused, “I’m giving the orders here. Now, **get on your knees**.”

“No,” Alex gasped and tried to move forward, but was pushed to his own knees roughly. Michael instantly felt the panic in his chest overcome his anger. He wanted these soldiers dead, but he wanted Alex alive more. No matter what happened to him, Alex had to be safe.

The thug put both hands on the gun, and glared at Michael. “On. Your. _Knees_.”

“Don’t, Guerin,” Alex whispered, his eyes full of rage, but not afraid. Never afraid.

Michael couldn’t help it; the corner of his lips rose as he lowered himself to the ground. “Don’t worry, Alex, it’s gonna be okay.”

As soon as Michael’s knees touched the ground, Alex hissed, “You’re going to regret that.”

“Am I?” the thug chuckled, and stepped away from Alex, his satisfied gaze on Michael.

“Yeah, you are,” Alex said, his eyes catching Michael’s, and Michael saw it. That calculated look that Alex had whenever he talked about Project Shepherd, about his father, about the Airforce or the war. He glared at Michael, and Michael _knew_ that he was trying to tell him something.

And right away, as Michael always did when he and Alex were together, when words just weren’t enough, he understood. _Get ready_ , he heard even as the thugs around them spoke, their voices turning to nothing more than background noise. It was just Alex now.

Michael held his gaze to tell him he understood, though he couldn’t help the worry that settled in his heart at the gun near Alex’s head, the chance that Alex could get hurt. Michael swallowed, focusing only on the airman, pushing all doubt aside.

Alex took a deep breath, and in a move so quick Michael almost missed it, Alex turned, grabbed the thug’s wrist, and pulled the gun out of his hand. Michael used the other guards’ momentary shock to blast them into the walls with his powers. When he looked up, he found Alex standing, the gun in his hand aimed at the thug who’d fallen to the ground, his expression a mixture of shock and fear.

“Y-You wouldn’t,” the thug said, trying to laugh, though it sounded more like a cry to Michael’s ears. “You can’t. You – You don’t have it in you.”

“Don’t I?” Alex said, his voice cool and dark. He clenched his jaw. “You made him _kneel_.”

Michael’s brows furrowed and he stepped forward, his voice soft as he said, “Alex…” he put his hand on Alex’s shoulder, and the airman seemed to snap out of something. Alex kept his gaze on the thug, but Michael felt his muscles relax under his touch.

He lowered the gun slowly, but just as the thug opened his mouth to speak, Alex flipped the gun onto its hilt and hit him so hard across the face that he blacked out.

Alex let the gun fall from his hand with a deep sigh. “Sorry, I couldn’t do much while I was standing,” he said. “I had to get him to push me, get the pressure off my leg. I only had one shot at disarming him, so I had to be able to focus.”

But Michael didn’t care about any of that. Before he could think too much about it, he pulled Alex to his chest, holding him tightly as he buried his face in the nape of his neck.

“You’re okay,” he breathed, kissing Alex’s neck in a desperate attempt to reassure himself that Alex was safe. “You’re okay.”

“ _I_ am,” Alex pulled back, his fingers holding onto Michael’s jacket. “Are you?”

“Never better,” Michael huffed a chuckle, his eyes burning as the panic and dread in his chest eased. “As long as you’re okay.”

Alex pressed their foreheads together, and Michael closed his eyes, inhaling his scent. He was just about to pull back, to take Alex’s hand in his and get them both out before they ran into anyone else, when a gunshot sounded throughout the entire room, and he froze.

He opened his eyes slowly as Alex’s shocked expression slowly faded, the airman going limp in his arms.

“Alex,” he gasped, falling to the ground with him. Michael saw the red blossoming in Alex’s side, and his eyes caught the thug who Alex had just knocked out. He had blood trickling down his forehead, his eyes half-lidded, the gun in his hand.

The man chuckled as he watched Alex. “He should’ve killed me.” 

Michael shook with rage, his hold on Alex so tight that he it felt as if Alex was becoming a part of him – and he screamed. The man’s face immediately contorted to one of excruciating pain, blood leaking from his mouth and nose and ears, and without so much as a wince, he fell dead, his eyes left open.

Michael then felt a tug, and exhaled sharply, snapping out of his angry haze to see Alex – _his_ Alex – watching him with barely open eyes, pulling helplessly on his jacket.

“Alex,” he repeated over and over as he applied pressure to the wound, blood coating his hands and sleeves. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna be okay, okay? I love you, I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry.”

But the hand that was covering Michael’s slowly fell away as Alex’s eyes closed, his breathing becoming slower and slower until it almost seemed like he wasn’t breathing at all, and in an instant, Michael felt his world shatter to pieces.

“Alex… ALEX!”


	185. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I said move!"

“Thought I’d find you here,” Michael heard and smirked into his drink. He said nothing as Alex slipped onto the stool beside his, ordering a drink before Michael felt his eyes settle on him.

“Isobel or Maria?” he asked, taking another sip from what felt like his sixth bottle.

“Both,” Alex said, and Michael couldn’t miss it. The distance in his voice, the coldness of it, as if Michael was some stranger he was passing in the street and felt obligated to keep himself from drinking himself to death. “Isobel, then Maria.”

“She shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, she shouldn’t have,” Alex said. “You’re not my responsibility, Guerin, it’s not up to me to take care of you. Least of all because your girlfriend asked me to.”

“She’s not my girlfriend –”

“I don’t want to be here,” Alex said cruelly. “I need you to know that.”

Michael swallowed, and tried to convince himself the burning, bitter taste in his mouth was the excessive amount of alcohol. “So leave.”

“You know I’m not going to do that,” he said, thanking the bartender for his drink with a nod of his head.

“And why not?”

“Because, whether we like it or not, we need each other,” Alex said, taking a sip of his bottle. “And right now, you need me.”

Michael’s fingers tightened around his bottle, and he stood, stumbling slightly. “I don’t need you, Private,” he growled, even as his heart raced, as every fiber in his body itched to reach forward, to hold Alex close and bury himself in the airman’s warmth, inhaling his alluring scent of maple syrup and wood. Even though his very core yearned for Alex, he insisted, “In fact, I’m better off without you.”

He’d barely managed to turn around before Alex was in front of him, blocking his path.

Michael closed his eyes, his jaw clenched. “Move.”

“Sit back down.”

“ **I said move!** ”

“Or what?” Alex came closer, and Michael resisted the instinct to step back. “You’ll lash out? Use your powers? I’m not everyone else, Guerin, you know I’m not, and we both know you’re not going to hurt me.” He stepped into Michael’s space, and said, his voice quiet, “So sit your ass back _down_.”

Michael held his gaze for what felt like five whole minutes before he couldn’t take it, and he took his stool. Alex waited until he was settled before he took his seat beside him again.

“I don’t need you to babysit me,” he said after a moment.

“You’re drunk off your mind,” Alex said. “You think I’m going to let you get in a car?”

“Alex, I don’t _want_ you here.”

“Yes, you do.”

“It _hurts_ to have you here.”

“I hurt you no matter what I do, right?” Alex said, and Michael’s next words died in his throat. The airman’s voice was calm, but a muscle jumped in his throat. “You’re hurt if I’m with you, you’re hurt if I’m away from you, you’re hurt if I love you, and you’re hurt even worse if I try to love someone else. Everything about me hurts you, Guerin, might as well learn to live with it.”

Michael frowned. Alex seemed so _sure_ that that was true, that his mere presence caused Michael pain, and he’d come to terms with it. He looked away, a lump in his throat, and not for the first time in weeks, he wished Max was there, that he wasn’t stuck in his pod while they tried to look for a way to bring him back to life. He didn’t realize how much he depended on his brother, how much he counted on him to show up, like Alex, and tell him to take his seat, to shut up and _listen_ to him.

He blinked, realization dawning, and he scoffed. He looked to Alex. “You know I don’t need _you_ right now. I need Max. That’s who you’re trying to give me.”

Alex was taking a drink, and at Michael’s words, he set the bottle down, and sniffed. “I’m the only one that can.”

Michael stared. “This is killing you, isn’t it? Being here with me, talking to me, _looking_ at me.”

“I told you already,” Alex said, and Michael didn’t miss the way his fingers tightened on his drink. “I don’t want to be here.”

“But we need each other,” Michael finished, nodding to himself. “That’s what you meant.”

Michael caught Alex’s eyes, and held his gaze. Alex nodded, and Michael now realized the exhaustion on his face. He’d been so focused on how scared he was of Alex being here, reminding him of everything he’d lost, of everything he’d thrown away, and he hadn’t even considered what his breakdown was doing to his other half, to the person that – as Alex had said, whether or not they wanted it – was connected to his thoughts and emotions on an inseparable level. He’d spiraled down and Alex had followed because he couldn’t help it.

_I’m not everyone else, Guerin, you know I’m not._

“Even if it kills us.”

Alex sighed, the sound of someone resigned to a doomed love. “Even if it kills us.”


	186. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This isn't over."

The second Michael saw Alex, he knew something was wrong. He was sitting with Liz and Rosa and Maria, his small group of friends, but as the girls chatted animatedly, Alex was quiet, staring straight ahead.

Michael leaned over the side of his truck to get a better look at him, get his attention, signal him over, but no matter what, it was as if Alex had gone numb to everything around him. Every time one of his friends smiled at him or told him something, he put on a fake smile, chuckled along, and as soon as the attention was off him, he curled in on himself, his expression blank.

“Hey, Max,” Michael nudged his brother as he talked to a friend, his eyes on Alex, “look, there’s Liz.”

“Hm?” Max looked over and his expression softened. “Oh yeah.” He waved his friend off, and elbowed Michael’s arm. “Hey, I’m just gonna go say hi to her, okay?”

Michael shrugged, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. “I’ll come with you. I love seeing you fumble around her, and I need a good laugh today, so…”

He glanced at Alex again, making sure he was still there, and when he looked back at Max, he saw him watching him with furrowed brows and a knowing smirk on his lips.

“What?”

Max pressed his lips together and shook his head, but as he passed Michael, he clapped him on the shoulder fondly. Michael watched him go on ahead of him, and after a deep breath, he followed.

As they approached the small group, the girls noticed the boys coming and looked up from where they were seated on the steps, all except Alex.

“Hey, Max!” Liz said warmly, reaching her hand up to take Max’s.

“Hey, girls,” Michael heard his brother say, anything else after that turned to background noise as he came up behind Alex.

The girls were all preoccupied with Max, nobody noticing as Michael touched the back of Alex’s head, his fingers slipping through his soft hair.

Alex jumped slightly, startled, and immediately turned around. Michael seemed to have been able to break through Alex’s haze because his eyes filled with immense relief, and his shoulders sagged. Michael’s heart ached at the sight, and he subtly pressed his fingers against Alex’s temple, the urge to touch him stronger than ever as he closed his eyes, exhaling at Michael’s touch.

Michael glanced at the others before he settled on Alex, and nudged his chin towards the back of the music building.

Alex followed him with his eyes and nodded ever so slightly. Michael waited a moment, then said he was going to the bathroom. The others barely paid him any mind as they laughed about something together. Judging by the way Max blushed and looked down, Michael guessed it was at him. He patted his back pityingly before he went off, turned the corner of the building, and waited. It felt like forever before he heard footsteps, and Alex came around.

Their eyes instantly caught, and Alex surged forward, wrapping his arms around Michael’s shoulders, burying his face in the crook of Michael’s neck.

“Hey,” Michael chuckled, holding Alex’s waist, keeping him close. “Missed me?”

“Mm hm,” Alex hummed, sighing. His hot breath against Michael’s neck sending a shiver up his spine.

He leaned back, capturing Alex’s lips in his. Alex reacted immediately, raking his fingers through Michael’s curls, pulling him in further, and tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Michael moaned, reveling in the feeling of Alex’s tongue against his. He pushed Alex against the wall, devouring his mouth, his hands gripping his waist hard enough to leave bruises. Maybe he’d imagined it, that numbness in Alex’s face earlier. He seemed fine now, _better_ than fine.

Then Michael felt Alex slip a hand up his shirt, and he inhale sharply.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Michael leaned back, holding Alex’s face in his hands. He saw it up close now – the dark circles under Alex’s eyes, his lower lip cut as if he’d been chewing on it nervously, the way his brows furrowed slightly as if, even now, he had something serious on his mind. _Had he always had that look?_

“What?” Alex asked, his eyes half-lidded as his hands came up to Michael’s chest. “What’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing, I – uh –” he leaned into Alex’s touch. “ _Damn_ , you smell good.”

Alex smirked, and he said, his voice deep and quiet, “You taste good.”

And had his smile reached his eyes, had Michael not felt the tremble of Alex’s fingers against his chest, had he not known Alex enough to know when he was upset, he may have allowed his lips to be taken again, to feel Alex pull him in deeper and _deeper_ until the rest of the world was forgotten and it was only them, as it so often was. But he did know Alex.

“What’s wrong?”

Alex looked startled at the question, and for a second, Michael could’ve sworn he saw fear flashing in his eyes, but it was gone as quick as it came. He shrugged, shaking his head. “Nothing, I’m fine.” When Michael looked unconvinced, Alex huffed a chuckle. “I’m fine, I promise”

He tried to kiss Michael again, but Michael pulled back, keeping Alex in his hold, but far enough away that he couldn’t feel his body heat, pulling him in. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Lie to my face like that.”

Alex blinked, surprised. Then, his smile softened to something smaller, but genuine. His hands turned to fists against Michael’s chest, and with a deep sigh, he rested his forehead against Michael’s shoulder.

Michael wrapped his arms around his waist, holding them close together. “Just tell me what’s going on. You don’t think I can help you?”

“It’s nothing I need help with,” Alex said, his voice quiet. “It’s just… something my dad said.”

Michael’s fingers dug into Alex’s shirt. “Did he hit you again?”

Alex leaned back, searching Michael’s face with a fondness that had Michael leaning in, their noses brushing. Before their lips could touch, Alex moved away, sitting down against the wall. “I never told you what my brothers went off to do after high school. Where they are now.”

Michael frowned, and sat beside him, their legs brushing. “What do you mean?”

Alex smirked humorlessly. “Military. They’re all in the Air Force, just like dear old dad.”

“All of them?”

He nodded. “A real Manes man. Family motto.”

“Hey,” Michael brushed his thumb against the corner of Alex’s lips when his expression started to fade again, “talk to me.”

Alex covered Michael’s hand with his own, closing his eyes and leaning into his touch. “I’m tough, aren’t I? I can stand my ground, I can make my own decisions. Can’t I?”

“Alex, what’re you talking about?”

Alex opened his eyes, staring right into Michael’s, and he sighed before dropping his hand, pulling out of Michael’s touch. “Last night, my dad… he gave me an enlistment form.”

“Enlistment –” Michael’s brows furrowed in confusion, then he blinked. “What, you mean for the _military_?”

“It’s dumb to be scared,” he rubbed his face. “He can’t make me.”

“Alex…”

Alex looked away. “ **This isn’t over** , I know it’s not. He’s going to keep pushing and pushing, and… he _knows_ how to get people to do whatever he wants, Guerin. What if... what if he gets under my skin? What if he gets me to sign?”

Michael turned his body toward Alex’s. “How would he do that?”

“I don’t know, but he’s…” he groaned. “It’s so annoying! He’s already so sure I’m going.”

“ _Going to war_?” Michael said incredulously. “Alex, you can’t!”

“I know that!” Alex burst into laughter, startled. “I won’t!” His laughter died down, and he rubbed his eyes until they were red, as if he’d been crying. Michael half-wondered if he had. “Nothing would ever make me enlist, not even if a UFO hit and aliens threatened to kill me unless I joined the army.” He shook his head. “God, could you _imagine_? _Me_ , in the Air Force? There’s not a force powerful enough in the world.”

Michael watched as Alex’s fingers dug into his knees, the exhaustion evident on his face even through his smile, and he tightened his own fingers into fists.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, wrapping his arms around Alex and pulling him in against his chest, his legs coming up to cage him in. “Sorry for freaking out, I just… really don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“ _I_ really don’t want me to go anywhere,” Alex said into Michael’s shirt, his arms coming around Michael’s waist. “Except maybe New York, or – or Hawaii, or something. Anywhere the Manes legacy won’t follow me.”

Michael scoffed lightly into Alex’s hair. “You’re right, he absolutely can’t force you into this, no matter who he is. You just have to say no, okay? Just keep saying no.”

“Yeah,” Alex nodded. “Yeah.”

“I bet you’d make an awesome soldier though. Knowing you, you’d probably become master sergeant by your first week.”

Alex’s hold tightened on him, and he said, his voice surprisingly quiet. “Don’t say that. I wouldn’t want to do it.”

“I know,” Michael kissed his forehead. “I know, I’m sorry, that was a stupid joke.”

Alex sighed deeply, and the two melted into each other’s hold, the other students and traffic cars in the background drowned out. Michael ran his hands up and down Alex’s back soothingly, inhaling the scent of his shampoo, and his eyes fluttered shut as a soft breeze blew by.

Then Alex stirred, and moved out of Michael’s hold.

“We should get back,” he said, standing, and Michael reached for his arm. He laughed. “Come _on_ , Guerin.”

The corner of Michael’s lips quirked upward at the genuine smile at Alex’s lips, and he stood without a word.

“Wait,” he said just before they turned the corner, and he brought Alex’s face close to his, pecking his lips before he let him go. “Alright, go on ahead of me.”

“Okay,” Alex chuckled, his smile wide and his eyes glistening as he looked at Michael over his shoulder, and all the while, Michael tried to envision Alex Manes as an Air Force soldier.

His smile slowly fell away because – though he would never mention it to Alex – it wasn’t impossible to believe.

_Nothing would ever make me enlist!_ Alex had said, and Michael held on to the belief that that was the truth.


	187. Malex & Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's not too late."

Michael felt like he’d spent the last two hours staring at Alex’s back from across the bar. The airman had been talking to Kyle the entire night, and as he’d left, he casually ran a hand down Alex’s spine. Alex, to Michael’s surprise, didn’t snap at Kyle not to touch him, or flinch away from his hand. Instead, his smile softened, and he lightly touched the doctor’s wrist as he pulled away.

Michael took a deep breath, the picture of Kyle’s hands on Alex nagging in his mind. He reached him, his hand outstretched to touch Alex. They hadn’t spoken since Alex had silently come to the Airstream after the whole incident with Maria, silently demanding an explanation with his eyes, _anything_ that told him why Michael would do this. Michael had given his reasons, his voice steady, and Alex had listened without a word. After he had finished, Alex’s eyes were glistening, his expression numb, but his eyes revealing the hurt and betrayal he felt, as if he’d never really expected Michael to be the one to relate him to his father.

With a slight nod of his head, Alex had turned. Michael had grabbed his wrist, nothing but Alex’s name on his lips, but Alex didn’t face him, and Michael knew he’d just made it too difficult.

_I don’t look away, Guerin_ , Alex’s words rang in his ears, and he couldn’t help but think of the way his fingers had slipped from Alex’s wrist, of Alex walking away from him, of Alex getting in his car and driving away, all the while, his eyes unable to catch Michael’s.

Michael’s fingers stopped just short of Alex’s back, every bone in his body yearning to touch the airman, but as the memory of that day came back to him, he found it impossible. He pulled away, watching as Alex focused on the baseball game on the small television hanging in the corner.

He wondered if, had he made a different decision, that could have been them together. Having a drink, making fun of the game, rooting for opposite teams, probably, just to spite each other. Michael’s hand fell to his side, and he stopped trying to think about _what ifs_. There was no point now. Not anymore.

He turned away, and had barely made it two steps before he heard –

“Guerin?”

He froze, and slowly turned around, expecting to see Alex angry, maybe even disappointed or annoyed that Michael had followed him to another bar. He guessed the reason Alex had avoided the Wild Pony hadn’t just been to steer clear of Maria.

But the airman was smiling softly, his brows raised up in surprise.

“Hi,” he said, his voice calm and clear.

“Er –” Michael said dumbly, “h-hey, Alex. Surprise seeing you here.”

Alex blinked. “I was just about to say the same thing. I didn’t know you go to this bar.”

Michael shrugged and moved to sit beside him, and when he saw that Alex wasn’t trying to squirm away from him, he settled onto his stool with a slight slump. “Trying something new.” He hesitated. “It’s good to see you.”

Alex’s eyes were gentle. “You, too.”

Michael pressed his lips together and nodded slowly before he said, “This is weird.”

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” Alex chuckled.

“I don’t think we’ve ever talked to each other like this before.”

“No, I don’t think we have, but…” he shrugged. “I said I wanted us to be friends. I mean, **it’s not too late** , right? Unless _you_ don’t want to?”

_No, I_ don’t _want to_ , Michael thought. He really, really, _really_ didn’t want to be Alex’s friend. Friends were limited, friends didn’t want to do the things that Michael wanted to do to Alex, to do _with_ Alex.

But he could still feel the chill that had gone up his spine as he’d stood behind Alex, too afraid to touch him, to speak to him. He couldn’t go back to that, to having _nothing_ with the airman. He just couldn’t.

“No, yeah, of course I do,” he blurted. “I’d – I’d love that. So… we should…”

“Talk?”

“Talk,” he nodded. “About what?”

Alex looked like he didn’t know either. “Anything,” he said. “How’s Max?”

“He’s doing fine. We’re all taking shifts to check on him, even though he insists he doesn’t need our help. Call us overprotective.”

Alex huffed a chuckle. “That’s good. Max is lucky to have you all there.”

Michael leaned forward. “You know, when I said _all_ of us, I meant Isobel, Liz, and I. That’s it, just us.”

“It’s okay, Guerin, you don’t have to explain yourself to me anymore. It’s not like we’re together.”

And it was the _way_ he said it. Michael couldn’t put his finger on what it was; maybe the fact that he’d said it so calmly and casually, as if it didn’t bother him, but it bothered Michael. A few month ago, Alex had looked at Michael as if he’d cut him, as if he’d hurt him in the worst possible way, a way that no one else was capable of. Now he looked like he didn’t care. Michael had a hard time not finding that worse.

He swallowed, shifting slightly in his seat. “You uh – you look great. I’ve never seen you wear leather before.”

Something shifted in Alex, though it came and went so quickly that Michael convinced himself he’d imagined it. Alex looked down at his jacket and said, “I only put it on again cause Kyle asked me to. To be honest, I think I prefer the suede.”

“Kyle?” Michael repeated, staring at Alex. “Since when does – why’d Kyle ask you to wear it?”

Michael pressed his lips together as Alex raised a brow at him. He’d almost asked why it mattered what Kyle wanted him to wear, and he hoped Alex couldn’t hear the question hanging between them. If he did, he didn’t comment.

Instead, he took a sip of his beer and said, “A longtime patient of his finally made it into the recovery room today. We’re celebrating. He’s just bringing the car around.”

_We’re celebrating._ Michael tried not to think of how easily Alex said it, as if there even was a _We_ between him and Kyle, as if they were…

“What, are you guys dating or something?”

Alex’s smile turned small, and he said, “So how have you been? How’s work?”

Michael stared. “Fine. Are you guys dating?”

“Really?” Alex took another sip from his bottle, his eyes avoiding Michael’s. “What about Sanders? Is he giving you any hassle?”

“Are you and Kyle dating?”

“Where _is_ Kyle? He’s taking forever –”

“Answer the damn question, Alex,” his voice was raised, and a few people stopped midway through their drink and gave him strange looks, but he didn’t pay them any mind. His focus was on Alex. _Why wasn’t he answering?_

“He’s a really good guy,” Alex said quietly, and Michael felt his whole world fall around him as he fell back on his stool. Alex was saying some things about Kyle making him comfortable, Kyle making him calm, Kyle making him _happy_ … but it all sounded to Michael as if he was underwater. Alex was dating Kyle. He was dating _Kyle_.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Michael muttered, then stood. “I swear, I’m gonna kill him.”

“You’re not touching him,” Alex said, his smile almost gone, his expression replaced with exhaustion.

“Valenti, Alex, _Valenti_ ,” he said desperately. “All that stuff he did to you in high school –”

“He’s changed, he’s _kind_ , Guerin, I really need that,” Alex said. “Come on, please just sit down, stop making a big deal out of this.”

Michael yanked his arm out of Alex’s hold, and grabbed the airman’s shoulders. “Dump him, dump his sorry ass, you know it’d feel good, after the way he treated you –”

“He’s been nothing but nice and supportive since I got back. I’m not breaking up with him, I like being with him, I like _him_!”

“But you love _me_ ,” Michael said, and Alex was silent. Michael’s grip on him tightened, and he came closer. “Just like you know I love you.”

At this, Alex looked up at him. He inhaled a deep breath, and Michael waited for the _I love you, too_ to leave his lips, but then –

“I know you think you do.”

Michael frowned. “What?”

Alex gently pried Michael’s fingers from his shoulder, holding both of Michael’s hands in his for only a brief moment. Then, he let go, and Michael felt the cold spread throughout his entire body.

“ _Alex_ ,” he breathed. “You don’t believe me? Alex, of course I love you.”

Alex said nothing for a moment, as if deliberating something in his head. In the end, he said, “Then how could you say that stuff to me? How could you see me like that, even for a second?”

To this, Michael had no answer. “Alex, I…”

Alex shook his head, his brows furrowing as he looked down at his drink, scratching the glass bottle. _How had this happened?_ Michael thought. Alex had looked so calm and happy only a moment ago.

“I know it’s unfair,” Alex said, his voice barely over a whisper, “and irrational, and only hurtful to me, but… I can’t let it go, Guerin. The things you told me, the way you see me… I can’t forgive you for it.”

“But I didn’t mean it like that,” Michael said, not caring that his tone was pleading. He just wanted Alex to stay. “I didn’t mean you were like him, I just meant that I saw him whenever –” his words cut off, and his eyes slowly widened with horror as he realized what he was about to say.

_I saw him whenever I looked at you._

Alex seemed to have heard the rest of the sentence, too, because he nodded to himself, a horrible, sad resignation in his eyes, and in the upward quirk of the corner of his lips. He really believed that Michael didn’t love him.

Alex’s phone buzzed, probably a text from Kyle that he’d gotten the car, and without checking it, he stood.

“Alex, wait,” Michael was at his heels, “please, just tell me how to fix this. Tell me what to do, _please_.”

“I don’t think there _is_ a fixing this, Guerin,” Alex said. He turned away, paused, then faced Michael again. “You know, being with you hurt me, too. I just always thought you were worth it.” He shrugged a shoulder, his smile soft and sad. “It’s not your fault you didn’t feel the same way.”

Michael was about to say something to stop Alex again, he didn’t know what, when the baseball game ending sounded throughout the entire bar, and the crowd watching groaned.

“Damn hotshot,” one guy said to his friend as he passed Alex and Michael. “Thought he had all the time in the world, and missed his mark.”

“Bet he feels sorry now,” his friend said with a shake of his head. “Came running too late.”

Michael watched as they dissolved into the crowd, his brows furrowed. When he looked back to Alex, he found that the airman had gone.

_Bet he feels sorry now_ , the words echoed in Michael’s ears like a taunt that would never end. _Came running too late._


	188. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Need a ride?"

“ **Need a ride?** ”

Alex looked up from where he was sitting on the stair of the backdoor of the bar, his arms crossed tightly to ward off the cold, and he blinked at Michael.

“I don’t think I’m allowed to leave, and I _know_ you’re not,” he said, and leaned into Michael’s warmth as the cowboy sat down beside him.

“Max is too busy staring at Liz, he wouldn’t notice if the entire bar burned to the ground,” Michael said, though he slung an arm around Alex’s shoulders, settling in comfortably against the doorframe. “We could head back to the cabin, have an engagement night of our own.”

“Is that _always_ where your mind is?”

Michael raised a brow. “Have you _seen_ you?” Alex laughed, and Michael’s smile softened. He leaned in, his forehead pressed against Alex’s temple, his eyes closed. “I love your laugh.”

Alex felt a heat crawl up his neck, and then Michael’s lips were on his cheek, his stubble scratching his skin. Alex’s eyes fluttered shut as Michael placed another wet kiss, his tongue leaving a trail to the corner of Alex’s lips. Alex’s mouth opened pliantly, and he felt Michael’s tongue against his. Alex moaned as Michael’s arm came around his waist, his other hand slipping into his hair, and while he longed to run his fingers through Michael’s curls, the cold only allowed his hands to reach as far as Michael’s jacket collar, pulling him closer.

“Come on,” Michael breathed, bringing one hand up Alex’s shirt, “let’s get out of here.”

Alex bit his lower lip, one hand coming up to hold Michael’s jaw. “What about the engagement party?”

Michael’s nails suddenly dug into Alex’s back, and Alex gasped, his body instinctively moving towards Michael who was ready, pulling Alex even closer so that he was practically straddling the cowboy.

Alex moaned slightly as Michael kissed from his lips to his ear and with his hot breath fanning his skin, he whispered, “What _about_ it?”

And Alex snapped, pushing past the cold to turn Michael’s face, and devour his lips. Michael kissed back just as hungrily, one hand on Alex’s lower back, pulling him in deeper, deeper, _deeper_ until all Alex could feel was Michael. His other hand was on Alex’s right thigh, rubbing it. Alex moaned against Michael’s lips, and Michael pulled back.

“Screw it, I’ll do you in the damn truck.”


	189. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where were you when I needed you?"

“You should get some rest,” Michael said.

Alex didn’t look up from where he sat at Kyle’s bedside, his eyes on the sleeping doctor. “I’m fine.”

“Alex, you haven’t slept in two days,” Michael came up to him, hesitating before he put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get some food, and then we can –”

“I said I’m fine,” Alex said, and Michael stared.

“He’ll be okay for a couple of hours, Private –”

“ _Guerin_ ,” he looked Michael dead in the eye, “I’m not leaving.”

And he shrugged Michael’s hand off, crossing his arms as he settled back into his chair. There was a slight stiffness in his shoulders, the dark circles around his eyes were deep, the few cuts on his face still unbandaged, and his hand rubbed his right thigh as if it ached. Michael imagined it must have, especially since Alex had refused to have it checked since they had made it back.

_What if he wakes up alone?_ Alex had said, and demanded to take a seat beside Kyle until he opened his eyes. Michael tried not to think at the anger on his face when the doctor had told him that only immediate family was allowed to stay with him so long. He had taken out his Air Force badge, determination in his eyes as he said that Kyle was his partner, and they were as good as family to each other. Michael didn’t know whether or not Alex’s badge had any power in the hospital, but the doctor in charge of Kyle’s case allowed it regardless, clasping Alex on the shoulder fondly and telling him that Kyle was lucky to have someone like him.

The whole thing had left Michael feeling very heavy and very ill. He took a deep breath, and sat on the armrest of Alex’s chair. This time, though every fiber in his body yearned for it, he didn’t dare touch him.

“I didn’t know he meant so much to you,” Michael said. Alex didn’t respond, and Michael glanced at him to find any shift in his expression, though he saw none. He gently traced the cut along Alex’s lip with his finger. “You should have that looked at.”

“Guerin,” Alex swatted his hand away.

“Okay,” he said, holding his hands up in defense. “I won’t touch you.” At this, Alex glanced at him, and sighed, rubbing his face. “Alex, just go to sleep here.”

“No.”

“I’ll watch him for you.”

“ _No_.”

Michael clenched his jaw. “Stop being stubborn.”

“He needs me,” was all Alex said, and Michael’s jaw clenched. “I’m not leaving him no matter what.”

After a moment, he quietly said, “You left _me_.” Alex went still, and though his eyes were on Kyle, Michael had the feeling he couldn’t really see him anymore. “ **Where were you when _I_ needed you?**”

Alex’s shoulders slumped and he exhaled deeply. He closed his eyes, and Michael was shocked to see a tear fall. He immediately got to his feet, taking Alex’s face in his hands. “Whoa, wait, I didn’t – Alex, don’t cry, I’m –”

“I’m just tired,” he croaked, pulling out of Michael’s hold and rubbing his face. “I’m okay.”

Michael kneeled beside him. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He sniffed, his eyes on Kyle. “Having feelings?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Guerin, I never should’ve left you –”

“No, Alex, I didn’t mean to – I was just being petty –”

“You should be,” he said. “I just abandoned you, I deserve to have you hate me, and you know what, _I_ should be the one sleeping where Kyle is.”

“Don’t say that,” Michael frowned, taking Alex’s face in his hands, this time refusing to let the airman move away. “Alex, don’t ever say that again.

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not –”

“Guerin –”

“I made you _cry_ , Alex!”

“You didn’t,” Alex said, his voice calm, like it didn’t matter. “I really am just exhausted.”

Michael sighed, silently cursing himself. He knew that Alex hadn’t had any rest in a couple of days, and here he was, beating on him. _What was wrong with him?_ “Alex, I swear, I was just being a dick, I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Yeah, you did,” Alex said. “‘Cause you’re still angry with me. No matter what I say or do, you’ll always be angry, Guerin.” He shook his head, another tear falling. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not angry,” he said, wiping the tear from Alex’s face. “Hey, look at me, I’m not angry. Do I look angry?”

Alex searched his face as if checking, and he shook his head, his lower lip quivering.

“See?” Michael smiled, though his eyes burned. Alex had never looked so tired, so miserable, so _broken_. How long had he been like this? How long had Michael missed it?

Alex bit his lower lip so hard, Michael thought he would deepen the cut. “This is all my fault, Guerin. Kyle’s here because of me –”

“No, he’s not,” Michael said, wiping the rest of Alex’s tears with his thumbs. “This isn’t your fault, Alex. Kyle’s just as much of Project Shepherd as you are. This was going to happen whether or not you were involved.”

Alex shook his head, rubbing his face so roughly that his skin turned red. “He’s never going to forgive me.” Michael was taken aback, and Alex moved away from his touch. “I’ve lost someone else because of my father.”

Michael frowned. “Alex, you haven’t lost me.”

But Alex only shook his head, his eyes closed, his expression resigned. And Michael’s heart shattered. Alex really didn’t believe him.

Michael took Alex’s hand in his. “Alex, I swear, you haven’t – you _couldn’t_ …” Alex tried to pull his hand away, but Michael held on tighter. “Alex… I love –”

“Please leave.”

His brows furrowed, and for a moment, he said nothing, hoping he had heard wrong. “What?”

Alex avoided his gaze. “I want to be alone right now.”

Alex stopped trying to pull away from him, but he held on tighter anyway, his grip hard enough to bruise, though Alex didn’t seem to feel anything.

“ _Alex_ –”

“I just want to be alone, Guerin. Please.”

_No, I’m not leaving you_ , he wanted to say. _I’m staying whether you want me to or not. I’m not walking out on you again._

But he was still so shocked at the damage he had done to Alex, the one person he was so sure he would never hurt, that when he opened his mouth, what came out was, “Okay, Alex. I’ll leave you alone.”

And as if watching himself from a distance, he saw himself let go of Alex’s hand, get up, and leave, Alex’s numbed expression as he watched Kyle imprinted in the cowboy’s mind forever.


	190. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're not going anywhere."

“He’s been asleep too long,” Michael said, his foot tapping on the ground. “And these damn white walls are making my eyes hurt!”

“ _Michael_ , the doctor said he would be asleep this long,” Max said dully as Liz rested her head against his shoulder with Isobel against the other, they three of them sitting against the wall, exhaustion evident on their faces. “And if you hate the walls so much, why don’t you go take a walk? I’ll call you the second he wakes up.”

Michael stopped and glared at his brother. “Max, please don’t call Valenti a doctor like that’s a thing. It’s not a thing.”

“But he _is_ a doctor, Michael,” Liz said.

“And I don’t like that he’s the only one in there with him,” Michael walked up to the door, then with a growl, turned away. “He’s been in there too long.”

“Would you rather one of us sit in there with Alex?” Isobel said, her eyes half-lidded. “Or do you want someone who actually knows what they’re doing?”

“Liz is a doctor, why can’t she do it?”

Liz lifted her head, her eyes narrowed at Michael like she couldn’t see him properly. “You’re supposed to be a genius, you _do_ understand the difference between what Kyle does and what I do, right?”

“He does,” Max said with his eyes closed, his head against the wall, “he’s just being frantic.”

Michael opened his mouth, then closed it. He paced in front of the room door, and not too long after, he snapped, slamming a fist against the wall. He heard nothing but the sound of his own breathing for a moment, the picture of Alex’s head hitting the pavement replaying over and over in his mind.

He closed his eyes, forcing the thoughts out. “Stupid, _stupid_ , Private.” He turned to the others, surprised to see them all watching him. “What was he thinking, going in there by himself? I thought he was supposed to be clever!”

Max shook his head, his concerned eyes on Michael, and just as he opened his mouth to say something, the door behind them opened, and Kyle came out. Michael caught his expression; neither assured nor grieved, but shocked.

The others immediately got to their feet, and it was Liz who asked, “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Alex?”

“Er –” Kyle looked like he was still trying to work through his thoughts, looking over his shoulder as if he expected another doctor to suddenly jump in and help him.

“Valenti, _what happened_?” Michael asked, and Kyle barely looked at him before he was shoving past him. “Forget it, I’ll go see for myself.”

At this, Kyle seemed to snap out of his thoughts, and he blocked the way to Alex’s door. “ **You’re not going anywhere.** Not until I go downstairs and get another opinion.”

“Another opinion?” Liz stepped forward. “Kyle, what does that mean, _what’s wrong with Alex_?”

Kyle shook his head, looking to all of them before he sighed, “I’ll be right back.” His eyes settled on Michael in a glare, and he said, “ _Do not_ go inside.”

Michael clenched his jaw, and as soon as Kyle was out of earshot, he turned to the door. He’d barely touched it when Isobel grabbed his wrist. “Michael, Kyle said –”

“I heard what Kyle said,” he said, pulling his hand from his sister’s grasp. He stormed in, and found Alex, to his immense relief, sitting up against his pillows, his hand on the bandages surrounding his head with a furrow in his brows. He was a little beaten up, but he looked okay. Michael swallowed. _Alex was okay._

“Alex,” he breathed, unable to help the relief that flooded his system. His eyes burned, and he realized in that instance that he had been waiting for the worst. Alex looked startled to see him, and Michael hated that he couldn’t blame him. “Do you… remember what happened?”

Alex said nothing, but shook his head slowly. Michael mustered the best comforting smile he could as he slowly approached the bed. “That’s okay, you don’t have to. Don’t force yourself.”

Alex’s eyes turned wary as he followed Michael’s movements, and Michael tried not to be hurt by it. Alex had just been attacked, he was tired, and Michael wasn’t even supposed to have known. When he sat at the edge of the bed, Alex scooted further back.

“Alex, stop looking at me like that, like…” _Like I’m going to hit you._ Michael wondered if maybe the attack had brought back some traumatic memories of his father, and now, the airman couldn’t help but see Jesse everywhere, even in Michael. Michael wondered if this was what Alex had felt like when Michael had compared them. It was _torture_.

“Hey,” he said softly, covering Alex’s fists on the blanket with his hands. “It’s okay, you’re safe now. I’m here, I’m not leaving you again.”

Alex searched Michael’s face for a moment before he said, his voice hoarse, “Sorry.”

Michael shook his head, about to tell Alex not to apologize when Alex said –

“Who are you supposed to be?”

In that moment, Michael felt the world around him shatter. He frowned, leaning in, hoping beyond hope that he’d misheard. “Alex, that’s not funny, don’t say stuff like that.”

“I don’t – I don’t know who you are,” Alex said, trying to pull his hands out from Michael’s, but Michael kept his grip tight. “Let me go!”

“ _Alex_ ,” Michael narrowed his eyes. “Is this – are you being serious? You don’t remember me?”

“Kyle,” Alex said, then called again, his voice louder. “Kyle!”

“ _Kyle’s_ the one you remember?”

“Please, just let me go,” he croaked, using one hand to shove away Michael’s hold on his other one. “Seriously, you’re freaking me out, _please_.”

“Guerin!” Michael heard, though his eyes stayed on Alex as Kyle came to their side, pulling Alex’s hand out of the cowboy’s. “Come on, I _told_ you not to come in here!”

But Michael couldn’t look away from the airman. “Alex, do you really not remember me? This isn’t a joke?” Alex said nothing, holding his hand close to his chest. “Alex…”

He reached for him again, but Alex flinched back. “Please, I feel really sick, please just – just go.”

“Alex –”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I know you know me, but I don’t know you – I don’t know a lot of things right now, I just need to process. Please, leave, please.”

Kyle was avoiding Michael’s gaze, though Michael couldn’t miss the way his arm came around Alex’s shoulders protectively, the way Alex was _letting_ him. Michael could think of nothing else to do but nod silently, and walk out. As soon as the door closed behind him, he fell against the wall, Isobel, Max, and Liz’s questions surrounding him, asking him if he was okay, asking what happened, if Alex was okay, and Michael couldn’t explain it. He couldn’t say that Alex didn’t know who he was, that Alex didn’t recognize him. Michael couldn’t bring himself to believe that of everyone he could’ve forgotten, Alex had forgotten _him_.


	191. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you don't rest, you won't get better."

Alex looked sick. He was beautiful, his hair sticking out in messy strands, his cheeks rosy as if they’d been nipped by the snow, his eyes glittering with tears, and his lashes long and curled against his cheeks as his lids closed every so often – but he was sick, there was no way around it. His cute mouth turned into a pout as he breathed heavy, hot breaths, his skin burned to the touch, and when he spoke, his voice was deep but also scratchy because of the long morning he’d spent coughing.

Michael loved him like he never thought a person – alien or not – could love another person, and Alex would still be the most beautiful creature he would ever lay eyes on until the end of time, but even he couldn’t miss the way Alex slumped against his chair, or the way he struggled to stand for more than ten seconds, or the way he rubbed his temples when he thought no one was looking – as if he was suffering from an excruciating migraine. And after a subtle effort to check his temperature by pressing a kiss to his cheek, he realized that despite his attempt to hide it, Alex was indeed ill.

He set another cup of tea on Alex’s desk, and told his boyfriend as much when he looked up.

“I’m not sick,” he said, instantly betrayed as he went into a fit of coughs.

Michael patted his back, his chest aching at the broken sound. _Huh_ , he thought briefly. When had he turned into one of _those_ boyfriends? _Probably the same time you turned into someone’s actual_ boyfriend – another voice in his mind answered, and he found that the thought didn’t scare him as much as he had once thought it would.

“I’m fine, seriously,” Alex said, swatting Michael’s hand away. “And for the love of God, would you stop bringing me tea? I hate this stuff.”

“You love this stuff,” Michael protested.

“Not today, it’s making me gag,” Alex said thoughtlessly, then sighed at Michael’s raised brow. “Fine, so I’m a little nauseous, but I don’t need to go home for it, Guerin.”

Michael sat down in a chair beside him, his arms crossed over the back. “I don’t think you’re hearing me, Private. I’m offering to take care of you. Sit at your bedside, get you food, kiss your stomach –”

“What does that do?”

“Cheers _me_ up, for one,” Michael said like it was obvious, and his heart eased slightly as Alex laughed, croaked and pained as it was. “Look, **if you don’t rest, you won’t get better**. Don’t you want to get better?”

Alex shook his head, then flinched slightly as if even that gave him a headache. “Guerin, I never thought I’d say this, but you’re worrying too much. It looks worse than it is.”

But Michael frowned. “Why didn’t you?”

Alex blinked. “What?”

“Why didn’t you ever think you’d say that? That I worry too much? You don’t think I worry about you?”

“Oh,” Alex sniffed, slumping further against his seat, then he shrugged, “I don’t know, you just always seem so sure that you can protect me from anything, so no, I guess I never thought you worried. Never gave me much of a reason to worry either.”

Something in Michael’s chest turned warm, and he rested his chin on his hands. “Yeah?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Alex chuckled, coughed twice, and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “You know that I’m confident in you. If nothing scares me, it’s because I know you’re there to save me, every time.”

Michael’s expression softened. “Weird. I was just about to say the same thing to you.”

Alex raised a brow, doubtful, and Michael couldn’t help but wonder how. How was it that someone like Alex, someone so strong and kind and clever, someone who saw straight through Michael and seemed to know what he was thinking more than half the time, someone who could make his heart thrash in his chest and yearn to jump out – how someone like _that_ could doubt that he was the reason Michael kept _breathing_ every day?

“You think you know me so well, don’t you?” he joked, and Alex smiled.

“I know you want to be my hero right now.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

Alex looked at him thoughtfully, then, “You always want to be my hero, even when I don’t need one.” He tilted his head, and the corner of his lips quirked in that cute way that had Michael’s heart racing, his mind whirling as he tried to figure out what Alex would say next. “Why do you always think I need one?”

Michael blinked, surprised. “I don’t.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening in, remembered that only he and Alex were in the bunker today while Kyle tended to patients, and leaned in to his boyfriend regardless. “I don’t, Alex. I just love it when you look at me like I am.”

Alex’s smile softened. “I know you do.”

“Does that mean you do it on purpose just for my sake?”

“No,” Alex laughed, his hand rubbing his chest as if soothing a burn there. “But if that’s really where your mind goes sometimes...” He shook his head. “I can’t help the way I look at you. I love you, and you’re my hero whether you try to be or not. I just don’t get why you try to be.”

Michael blushed, unable to look away from his boyfriend. _I try to be because you make me feel a way I never thought I deserved to feel. I try to be because I love you so much it physically hurts me. I try to be because you’re always_ my _hero, and you deserve to have someone try to be yours. But no one will ever measure up. No one will ever really deserve you. Not even me._

But what Michael longed to say, he didn’t. Instead, what he said was, “Are you just trying to get me to stop bugging you about going home?”

Alex snickered, and was immediately overcome with a fit of coughs, his face turning red as he hunched over, his mouth covered.

“Oh my God,” Michael was behind him in a second, rubbing his back soothingly. When Alex straightened again, he said, “Okay, fine, I’ll kiss your throat, too. Your throat and stomach. And your chest – just to be safe.”

Alex’s eyes were half-lidded as he leaned against Michael’s stomach, Michael’s fingers running through his hair, his other hand on Alex’s back, still rubbing soothing circles. After a moment, he said, “I think I need to get some rest.”

Michael scoffed, unable to help but pull Alex closer, lowering his head to place a kiss against the airman’s forehead. “Good idea.”


	192. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, are you still awake?"

Alex felt something hard press into his back, and it wasn’t until he felt someone’s hot breath against his neck that he knew what it was.

“ **Hey, are you still awake?** ” Michael asked, and Alex groaned. He tried to ignore him, but the cowboy’s elbows kept digging into his back.

“Get off,” Alex said, blindly swatting at Michael’s arms. “Guerin!”

“So you _are_ awake,” he said, and Alex was getting increasingly irritated as he noted that there was a smugness in his tone. “Just lying around and being lazy. And here I thought you were working hard.”

Alex sighed, resigned, and rested his head back on his arms. He said nothing as Michael leaned in harder, and after a moment, the pressure froze. “Alex?”

Alex said nothing and felt Michael lean in closer, his elbows digging in deeper, his breath hotter against the shell of his ear, though this time when he spoke, his tone was tinged with doubt. “Alex, hey, are you mad? Alex?”

Alex groaned. “Shut _up_ , Guerin.”

“Are you mad?” Alex felt him cross his arms over his back, the pressure on his spine gone. His lips brushed Alex’s ear as he whispered, “Alex –”

Alex huffed and sat up, quickly turning around and pulling Michael in until the cowboy was pushed against the desk. Alex pressed his head against his stomach, his hands at his hips holding him in place.

“Alex –”

“Shh.” Alex snuggled his face into Michael’s stomach, inhaling his musky scent of cars and dirt and sweat. Most people had a problem with the way Michael smelled; Maria had gone far enough to say it was filthy, but Alex loved it. There was something so real and earthly about Michael’s scent. Something that reminded Alex that despite the fact that the cowboy was an alien, despite the fact that he’d come from somewhere far away, somewhere Alex could never go, he had a life here, on earth, with _him_. It was a reminder that he was Alex’s.

He soon felt Michael’s hands in his hair, his fingers running through the strands. “Your hair’s so soft,” he said, and Alex huffed a chuckle into his stomach.

“You’re such a baby.”

“ _I’m_ the baby, am I?” and Michael’s stomach rumbled with laughter, widening Alex’s smile. “Who’s sleeping on who?”

“I’ll move,” Alex said. “Just give me a second.”

“No, no, that’s just fine,” he said, his voice light, though Alex couldn’t miss the way Michael’s hold on him tightened. “I don’t mind.”

“Then why’d you come wake me?”

“I knew you were asleep!”

“No,” Alex shook his head, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around Michael’s waist. “I was resting. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

“It was only for a minute,” he sighed. “I’ll get back to work in a bit.”

“Alex, I was _joking_. You need to go home, sleep on a real bed.” A pause then, “Preferably with me, naked. But the finer details are all up to you. Except the naked and together part, I can do the rest anywhere else.”

Alex laughed, and kissed Michael’s stomach before pulling back. “I’m already awake now. There’s no point in going back to sleep.”

“Don’t say that,” Michael crouched in front of him, his hand on his knee. “You’ll make me regret not carrying you back.”

Alex raised a brow. “That might’ve been cute if I were a girl, but I don’t think even you could take my weight, Guerin.”

Michael leaned back, frowning. “Is that a challenge?”

Alex’s brows furrowed in confusion, but as Michael moved near him, one hand coming around his back, the other under his knees, Alex’s eyes widened, and he laughed, startled. “No, _no_ , it’s not! Get away from me –”

But Alex was too late because even as he squirmed, Michael was already lifting him up into his arms. “A-Alright, fine, Guerin, _okay_ , you made your point, you –”

Alex burst into laughter as Michael determined to stand straight while holding the airman, his hold on him tight with a kind of protectiveness that – even in his embarrassed state – Alex couldn’t deny.

“See that?” Michael said proudly, seemingly completely comfortable with Alex in his arms as he started to lightly sway where he stood, making Alex’s face flush so badly that he hid it in the crook of Michael’s neck. “We can do whatever other couples can do.”

“I wasn’t entirely envious of other couples for this part though,” Alex mumbled into Michael’s neck.

“Are you kidding?” he pulled Alex in closer. “What part of this aren’t you loving?”

_That I can never do it for you_ , he thought, his fingers tightening slightly around the nape of Michael’s neck. _That my leg could never hold my own weight for long, let alone yours. That even though I know you’d never want me to carry you, it kills me to not even have that choice._

It hurt Alex, above all else, that no matter what Michael did, there would always be a small voice in the back of his head taunting him with the war and what it had taken from him, _reminding_ him, every single day, that he would never be able to give Michael everything he deserved because – despite Michael’s insistence that Alex was perfect – Alex knew that he just wasn’t a whole person. He doubted he would ever be.

“Where do I start?” Alex said instead, and lightly hit Michael’s chest with his fist, laughing. “Okay, put me down already, _Guerin_ –”

But when he looked at Michael, his words faded away in his throat. Michael was looking at him with a soft smile, his eyes glistening, as if Alex was the greatest treasure he’d ever seen, certain beyond certainty that he would never lay his eyes upon anything more precious than the airman.

“What?” Alex asked, surprised at how quiet his voice was.

After a moment of searching Alex’s eyes, Michael shook his head and shrugged, “Nothing, I just… can’t believe you’re mine.”

Alex shook his head, biting his lower lip. Michael leaned in, and Alex could feel the cowboy’s hot breath fan his lips as he neared, but just as their lips brushed, Alex whispered, “I’m not kissing you till you put me down.”

“Damn you, Private,” Michael said after a moment’s hesitation. “Always playing hard to get.”

“No,” Alex said as Michael slowly set him down. “Not with you.”

As soon as Alex’s feet touched the ground, he raked his fingers through Michael’s hair, and pulled him in, taking his lips in his. Michael made a startled noise in the back of his throat, but soon melted into Alex’s hold, his arms coming around his waist and pulling him in closer, closer, _closer_ until all Alex could _feel_ was Michael. Michael’s scent, Michael’s curls, Michael’s muscles. It gave him an indescribable amount of pleasure to know that Michael Guerin – the man who snapped at nearly everyone, who took charge with even his siblings half the time, who didn’t like listening or following _anybody’s_ orders – could be so pliant under Alex’s touch.

“I worship you,” he whispered between kisses as he sat down in Alex’s chair, bringing Alex down to straddle him. He ran his hands up and down his sides, then slipped them under the airman’s shirt, his fingers leaving goosebumps against Alex’s skin, making him gasp. “Let me touch your properly.”

And it was stupid to always give in so quickly, to let Michael’s horny impulses run their course every time, to fall just as easily apart under his touch – and maybe if it had been someone other than Michael Guerin, he would’ve been able to stop. But…

“Okay, okay,” he panted, moaning slightly as Michael took his bottom lip between his teeth. “We’ll go to bed. But if you wake me up again –”

“Don’t worry, Private,” Michael said in a hungry smirk that promised nothing and _everything_ good all at once. “I’ll take _good_ care of you.”


	193. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael has a nightmare that Alex dies.

Michael still had that dream sometimes. He would be caught in the middle of a storm, the trailer in complete disarray as it tried to survive the heavy winds and hail, but Michael would be sitting completely still. He was never afraid because the storm was normal, the mess a part of his life. Nothing was ever clear or clean, nothing ever made sense – none of it ever _mattered_ anyway. Then the phone would ring, and he’d look up from the broken guitar at his feet, the one thing that – despite the rocking of the trailer back and forth – always seemed to come back to him. He would pick up the phone, and before he could say so much as a word, a machine-like voice would speak.

_“Sorry to inform you, Alex Manes has died in combat. Have a nice day!”_

The other line would hang up, the incessant _beep beep beep_ creating a hole in Michael’s chest, growing with every passing second. The trailer would stop shaking, the winds outside quiet, the storm gone, but it was always that moment that Michael dreaded the most. Because it was that moment, however still and silent the world had turned, that transformed his dream into a nightmare.

He would be suffocating, the world calm and collected and happy as Michael burned from the inside. And _every time_ , Michael woke up panting, tears in his eyes as he tried to reassure himself that it was just a nightmare, that it meant nothing, that he had gotten no call.

More than often, it did little to calm him. He knew that if anything actually _had_ happened to Alex, he would probably be one of the last people to know.

Michael had always shaken the thought from his head as soon as it entered, afraid that if he entertained it for even a second, it might come to pass.

_This time is different_ , he thought. This time when he opened his eyes, his breathing shallow and quick, tears already falling down the bridge of his nose and hitting the pillow, he saw Alex’s face, sleeping soundly beside him. Michael swallowed, his brows furrowed for a moment. Was this real or another dream?

He brought his hand up slowly to touch Alex’s face. His fingers trembled slightly, fearing that he would just pass through Alex, that he would turn out to be nothing more than an illusion of Michael’s own imagination, brought on to either ease Michael’s concern or torture him further.

But when Michael’s fingers touched Alex’s warm cheek, he exhaled a deep sigh of relief despite himself, and he leaned in, wrapping his arms around the airman, pulling him in.

He pressed his lips to Alex’s forehead, inhaling his scent. He had forgotten how soft Alex’s hair was, how warm his body was, how soft his skin was.

He felt Alex stir in his hold, and he leaned back, unwilling to let go.

Alex’s eyes fluttered open, shining as they looked up at Michael before they closed again.

Michael waited for Alex to say something, but the airman simply put a hand against Michael’s chest and snuggled against him.

Michael smiled, his thumb brushing Alex’s rosy cheek softly as he said, his voice hoarse, “Morning, Private.”

Alex hummed, his eyes still closed, and Michael, despite the fondness in his chest, couldn’t help the panic that had overcome him only a short moment ago. All those years, the thought that Alex had been somewhere Michael couldn’t protect him, had fought all those battles, had been stripped of who he was and molded into someone filled with trauma and blood and loss and death.

_Alex Manes has died in combat._

Time after time of willing those words away, of trying to breathe with no reassurance that Alex was actually okay.

_Alex Manes has died in combat._

_Alex Manes has died in combat._

_Alex Manes –_

“Guerin.”

Michael gasped at the sound of Alex’s voice. He looked down and saw that the airman was not looking at him, but that his ear was pressed to Michael’s chest, his brows furrowed, a frown forming on his lips.

“Your heart,” he said, “it’s racing.”

“I know,” he said, bringing a hand down Alex’s back, as if the airman was the one who had nearly suffered a heart attack. He couldn’t help it. Something about Alex being calm made him feel better. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Are you okay?”

Michael pressed another kiss to his forehead, then another. He shook his head. “Just a nightmare. I’m fine.”

Alex frowned, and Michael could see the remaining sleep fade out of his eyes in an instant, as if he had been used to waking up quickly. Michael then realized with a slight pain that Alex had probably been trained to do a lot of things in the military, things that would always – to some degree – be with him, even after his enlistment had ended.

Alex raised himself to lean on his elbow, but his hand never left Michael’s chest. Michael brought his own arm down around Alex’s waist, keeping him close. “You want to talk about it?”

Michael hesitated. He really did want to talk about it, he wanted Alex to hold him and tell him he was being stupid, tell him that he was actually here and _safe_. But part of him also feared that if he said the words out loud, then it would be as if admitting to a betrayal, as if he’d humored the idea of Alex’s death at all.

“Guerin,” Alex said, bringing a hand up to Michael’s jaw, instantly calming his thoughts. “It’s me. What’s wrong?”

Michael closed his eyes, covering Alex’s hand with his own, his other pulling at Alex’s waist, bringing him closer. Alex let Michael pull him in, and said nothing as Michael leaned down, inhaled his scent of maple syrup and wood, and kissed his collarbone. When he pulled back, Alex was watching him, his expression full of a kind of love that never seemed to go away.

Michael took a deep breath and said, “Every night, I dream that you die.” Alex said nothing, the slight raise of his eyebrows the only indicator that he was listening. Michael continued, “Ever since I found out you were going to war, I keep having nightmares that someone calls me, and tells me that you died. Every morning, it feels real, and… I can’t breathe.”

Alex’s frown deepened and he sat up. Michael followed, if only to keep his hold on Alex’s waist, if only to trust that he was still there.

“Guerin, that was ten years ago,” he said. “You haven’t been having these nightmares all this time, have you?” When Michael didn’t answer, Alex’s shoulders fell. “ _Have you_?”

“I had no way of making sure,” Michael finally, quietly said. “I wasn’t your family or friend, if anything had happened, I – I had no way of making sure that you were safe, Alex.”

“Guerin…”

“You know, every time I walked into the Wild Pony, I was afraid I would see your framed picture on the wall or something – the honored and deceased,” Michael tried to smirk, but the very thought sent an ugly shudder through his body, making him ill. “ _That’s_ how I would’ve found out, Alex. I _love_ you, and that’s how I would’ve found out.”

For a moment, Alex looked like he didn’t know what to say. Then, he leaned forward, capturing Michael’s lips in his own. Michael welcomed the kiss, pulling Alex closer to him, moaning instantly with almost a desperate whimper. He wanted Alex as close to him as possible, to feel his muscles go pliant under his touch, to feel his mouth against his, moving with the same harmony it always did.

When Alex pulled back, Michael couldn’t help but follow, his eyes closed with the warmth of Alex’s hands holding his face, and he _knew_ that Alex couldn’t let go either.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Alex said, sounding breathless, “to show you that I’m here. What do you want me to do?”

Michael still had his eyes closed, his hands coming around Alex’s waist, slowly scratching down Alex’s back. “More,” he breathed. “Just more of that.”

The sentence had barely left his lips before Alex was kissing him again, running his fingers through Michael’s curls, and Michael could _feel_ him. Every part of him that touched the cowboy, every part that still burned from the warmth of the blankets. Michael could smell traces of his own cologne on the airman, could feel the hair as he ran his hands across his chest and lower, lower, _lower_. It was these moments, these moments when he could feel Alex’s smile against his own, soft strands of Alex’s hair between his fingers, Alex’s body in his arms, pressing against his own – these moments that felt the most real.

“Did I scare you?” he blurted before he could help himself, and Alex blinked, his eyes hazed. “When I said what I said. I didn’t mean to –”

“What? No, hey, I…” Alex sighed, his hands on Michael’s shoulders, and even then, Michael felt each of Alex’s fingers digging into his skin. “Guerin, I was never safe. I need you to know that.”

Michael’s jaw clenched, his hold on Alex tightening, making him gasp. Alex exhaled slowly, and looked Michael straight in the eyes, his own dark. “None of us were ever safe, okay? It sucks, but that’s how it is. But I _am_ here now. I’m with you, and you’re here – not married with kids like I was terrified you’d be –” Michael huffed a chuckle, shaking his head, and Alex’s hold on him tightened as well, “—and we’re together.” Alex’s hands fell to Michael’s chest and came back up to his shoulders as if he was nervous himself, and didn’t know what he was supposed to do. “O-Okay? I know that wasn’t the best help, but… you looked like I was about to vanish, and I just wanted you to know that I’m…”

“Here,” Michael croaked, his eyes burning. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and kissed Alex hard and quick, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re here.”

Alex sighed, his eyes closed, his arms wrapping around Michael’s shoulders, keeping them together. “I’m here.”


	194. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Your hands are so cold."

It felt like years had gone by before Michael saw Alex again, though rationally, he knew it had been no more than a couple of weeks. Still, it was too long a time. Even when Alex had left for war, Michael had never managed to get used to him being gone. He was always missing him, always seeing him, the memory of his touch so painful that he could almost feel it. Then, after Alex had come back, Michael had found himself waking up in the morning, only hoping that their paths would cross. Even if they couldn’t talk, even if Alex would walk past him with nothing more than a glance, Michael wanted to see him. It only hurt, but Michael so desperately _wanted_ to see him.

And now he was. His eyes fell on Alex the second he had entered the bar, and in an eagerness to see his face, his eyes, his smile, he quickly tightened and untightened his fists and went up to him.

He slowed in his steps as he approached the airman, and with a second’s hesitation, he slid into the seat next to Alex’s. Alex had yet to notice him, but Michael took one look at his glass and smirked.

“Whiskey,” he said. “Who’re you trying to forget?”

Alex blinked at Michael, obviously having not expected to see him. _He had probably planned not to_ , part of Michael taunted. They weren’t at the Wild Pony, there was no reason for them to run into each other. Still, Alex was here now, in front of him, finally within his touch after weeks, and Michael didn’t care about why it had taken so long for them to be together. They were. That was all that mattered.

Alex’s brows furrowed, and he looked over his shoulder at the bar, as if trying to make sure that he really wasn’t at the Wild Pony. He looked back at Michael with a frown. _Okay_ , Michael thought. Not exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for, but it didn’t matter. As long as Alex was here.

“What’re you doing here, Guerin?”

“What, you think I’ve only ever mastered getting kicked out of _one_ bar? I like to switch things up, Private.”

Alex didn’t smirk, or smile, or even _scoff_ at the nickname. He returned to his drink, expressionless, as if Michael hadn’t just spoken.

Michael swallowed, clenching his hands together once before he let go, and plastered a smile on his face. He ordered the same drink Alex was having, then turned to the airman again, “I haven’t seen you for a while.”

Alex nodded silently, checking his watch before he looked over his shoulder. Despite the noise of the bar, they sat in a silence that was – Michael didn’t want to admit – _awkward_. He put his hands on the table, then in his lap, then back on the table. When had things turned awkward with Alex? The thought left a sick feeling in his stomach.

“Alex,” he tried again, his voice quieter. Alex hummed, and checked his watch again. “You uh – you waiting for somebody?”

Alex said nothing, but took another sip of his drink.

Michael tapped his thumb against his index finger. “Alex, would you at least look at me?”

Alex sighed, then turned to look at Michael, his eyes boring into his. Michael swallowed, “Not like _that_.”

“Like what?” Alex asked, sounding almost weary.

“Like you don’t even know me.”

Alex’s eyes softened. He looked away, his eyes focusing on his glass instead of Michael. “I don’t know what you want from me, Guerin.”

Michael hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not an idiot,” he said. “I know you came to this bar to look for me. I just don’t get why. I’m staying out of your way, and I’m taking the memories of – of _Caulfield_ with me, isn’t that what you wanted?”

Michael turned to face him on the stool. “Alex, I don’t blame you for Caulfield.”

“Yes, you do,” Alex said with such certainty and finality that Michael was left speechless. Alex’s jaw visibly clenched, and he huffed, checking over his shoulder. “He’s late,” he muttered, but Michael heard him.

“Who?” he asked, wanting only to change the subject so that look in Alex’s eyes would go away.

Alex didn’t answer as he pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and held it to his ear. “Hey,” he said after a while, and Michael’s head snapped around as he noted how much softer Alex’s voice had turned. “Where are you? You okay?” He huffed a chuckle, and Michael’s heart ached. Alex wouldn’t even _smile_ around him, but he did more than that to whoever he was talking to. “Yeah, okay… yeah… no, I’m fine, I was just worried.”

_Just worried?_ Michael’s frown deepened. He had thought Alex wasn’t capable of caring or worrying about anyone but Michael.

_You know that’s not true_ , a voice in his head said. Alex had always been caring and loving to the people who mattered to him. Michael had grown so used to convincing himself that Alex didn’t actually care about him, that he would abandon him eventually, that he’d find out more about the person that Michael really was and he’d hate him for it – that he forgot that Alex had always loved him too much for that. Alex – despite the little amount of it he got in return – had always loved him too much for that.

He’d been so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Alex had finished his call and pocketed his phone.

“Who was that?” he asked when he thought he could stomach the answer. _A date? A boyfriend? A better friend than Michael?_

“Kyle,” Alex said.

Something in Michael’s stomach twisted, though he didn’t know whether it was relief or something else.

“ _Valenti_?”

Alex closed his eyes and exhaled a deep breath. “I’m not going to try to defend him to you again.”

“What about all that crap he did to you in high school?” Michael said, using the same argument every time.

“I said I’m not doing it, Guerin,” he said. “Think whatever you want.”

Michael felt that something in his stomach rise toward his chest, and he recognized it now as anger. Anger and jealousy. He used to be one of the few people Alex would smile around, he used to be Alex’s _hero_. Now Alex struggled to even look at him, he showed no expression around him, but smiled and chuckled and worried over _Kyle_. Alex’s voice when he spoke to the doctor was laced with more concern and care than he had shown to Michael in months.

“It’s kind of pathetic, you know,” he blurted before he could help himself, and he saw the moment Alex froze, his eyes on his drink unfocused and dark. He knew he should’ve stopped then, should’ve taken it back, but he couldn’t. All this time, Michael had wanted nothing more than to see Alex, and now, even though Alex was _here_ , it felt like he wasn’t, and it hurt Michael more than he ever thought it would.

“I turn you down, so you turn to your high school bully,” he continued ruthlessly. “How desperate _are_ you to get laid –”

But Michael never finished the question because in that moment, Alex had rounded on him and threw a punch so strong it knocked Michael off his chair, sending him flying to the ground. He sat up with a wince, touching his fingers to his lips and pulling them back to find them covered in red. Other people in the bar were staring at what was happening, and though Michael’s entire body ached, when Alex’s face towered over him, emotionless, nothing hurt more than Michael’s chest.

His eyes widened with the realization of what he’d just said, and he sat up quickly, hurting himself more and forcing himself back to the ground.

“Alex,” he breathed, shaking his head, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t –”

“Fuck you,” Alex said, his voice cold as he looked down at Michael with a look Michael never, ever, _ever_ thought he would get from the airman.

Michael swallowed and looked down, nodding silently as he wiped the blood off with his hand. He couldn’t bear say anything with the pain in his chest, the lump in his throat, threatening to make him cry.

He heard Alex sigh, and when he looked up, the airman’s hand was outstretched. Michael blinked and slowly slipped his hand into Alex’s, covering it in blood, though Alex didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He pulled the cowboy to his feet, and dusted off his jacket.

“Feel better?” Michael asked, watching Alex’s face as he cleaned him.

“You deserved it,” Alex said, coming around to Michael to pat the dust off his back. Everybody else had gone back to minding their own business, not that Michael had paid them much mind. His eyes were on Alex who was close enough now to kiss, though he seemed focused on Michael’s jacket.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his lips almost brushing Alex’s cheek. He almost closed his eyed, Alex’s scent surrounding him – it really had been _too long_ since he’d seen him – but Alex stepped back.

“I know,” he said.

_Are you actually dating Valenti?_ he wanted to ask, but refrained. He didn’t think he would be able to bear the answer.

Instead, he reached a clean hand up and gently moved Alex’s bangs from his eyes. Alex let him. “Your hair’s gotten longer.”

“Guerin,” Alex shook his head, as if warning him. Michael’s hand slid down to his cheek, and stayed there. Alex’s eyes closed halfway, and he leaned into the touch.

“I miss you,” he said, and Alex looked up at him, his eyes glittering. Michael almost sighed with relief. For a moment, he had worried Alex’s eyes would never glitter for him again.

“I miss you, too,” he said, slowly bringing Michael’s hand down from his face, keeping his hold on it even as Michael held Alex’s hand with both of his.

His brows furrowed. “ **Your hands are so cold.** ”

“I haven’t been getting much rest lately,” Alex said, and somehow, Michael heard the silent confession; _I’ve been too broken about you to take care of myself at all._

“Then let’s stop this,” he whispered, coming closer. His heart took a small leap when Alex didn’t move away. “Let’s be together, that’s what you wanted, right? For us to be together?”

Alex pressed his lips together, then his eyes darkened and he nodded, something akin to resignation in his expression as he said, “Yeah, that was what I wanted –”

“It’s what I want, too –”

“—when I trusted you,” Alex finished, and Michael blinked, the rest of his words caught in his throat. “But I don’t anymore, Guerin, I don’t trust you.” He took a deep breath, “I can’t spend my life waiting for something else my dad did to come back and haunt me. I can’t be afraid that you’re going to leave me again when I find out about some other horrible crime he committed because I don’t for one second doubt that there’s a lot more where Caulfield and Jim Valenti came from.”

He tried to step back, but Michael held onto his hand tighter. “When I did that, Alex, when I left you there, I was just… I only needed…”

“Something easy?” Alex asked, though it sounded more like a sure statement. “Someone who didn’t know what you were, someone who wasn’t connected to your family?” He shook his head, pulling his hand out of Michael’s, and tiredly said, “I don’t really care what your reasoning was, Guerin. You chose someone else. You saw my father when you looked at me, and you punished me for it. I had expected it from everyone else. Not you.” He sighed, “Nothing beyond that matters to me.”

Michael panicked as Alex started to turn around, and he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist, his face buried against the space between Alex’s shoulders. Whether people were looking at them now or not didn’t matter. He wouldn’t let Alex go. He couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his hold on Alex’s waist tightening. “I’m sorry, Alex, I’m so sorry, I’ll never stop being sorry. Please, just… give me a chance, just… I’ll only see you as Alex. I’ll never think of you as anyone else, you’ll only be _Alex_ to me from now on. Just Alex.”

After a moment, Alex turned in his hold, and when Michael saw the tears in his eyes, the severe hurt in his expression, his arms fell limply to his side.

Alex shook his head, his brows furrowed, and he said, “I thought I already was.”

He wiped his face and turned to leave. This time, Michael watched him, unable to help but replay all the times Michael had let him walk away, feeling no better about it now than he did then. _I thought I already was_ , Alex had said, and Michael couldn’t disagree with him. If he had always believed Alex was Alex, then why hadn’t he ever chased after him?


	195. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's dog, Fiona.

Alex heard the gunshots first. His hands tightened on his own weapon. He was a small room by himself, blood staining the floors and carpets. Alex’s hands shook as he took in the spatter of red against the walls, the limp bodies tossed in the corner, the blood and burn marks soaking his own uniform.

_Not again_ , he thought. _Please not again._

The gunshots were getting closer. Alex looked around. There was no one to protect; there was never anyone to protect. Only lifeless eyes, staring back at him. _It’s your fault_ , he could almost their voices echoing in his head. _Your fault, your fault, your fault._

Alex turned back to the door, his hands shaking on his weapon. He had to stop. He had to calm down.

He swallowed. Why was he in this room anyway? Who put him here? He felt the blood on his uniform seep in, soaking his skin. He couldn’t breathe. Had _he_ been the one responsible for the death in this room? No, it couldn’t be possible, he didn’t remember ever firing his gun.

The gun shots came closer. Whoever was shooting was right behind the door. Alex took aim, but he couldn’t stop the million thoughts running around in his head, the way his heart hammered against his chest. He couldn’t remember getting here. He couldn’t remember what he was meant to do. There were too many shooters behind the door – enemies or friends? Alex had no idea – too many for Alex to take on alone.

Then he heard a whistling sound, and the gunshots eventually stopped. Alex’s brows furrowed, his frown deepening. What happened? The whistling grew louder and louder until Alex realized what it was, his eyes widening.

Something was falling. Something very large and very heavy. Before he could move one step away, it hit.

_BOOM!_

The impact of the bomb threw him back, though the heat didn’t hit him, and neither did the rest of the house, except for the opposing wall, fall. Still, Alex flailed his arms wildly as he flew, his weapon falling from his hand, a heavy weight on his chest.

“NO!” he screamed, bolting up in his head. He was met with two big brown eyes staring back at him, and something in his chest instantly eased. He panted, one hand slowly coming up to pet the beagle in his lap, her paws against Alex’s chest. Alex had the feeling his dog had been trying to wake him up, and he couldn’t help but huff a tired chuckle when she licked his face, as if knowing that he was suffering and trying to comfort him.

“Fiona,” he said, his voice hoarse. “It’s okay, I’m okay.”

Fiona whimpered as if to say, _I don’t believe you._

Alex huffed a chuckle, his eyes already closing. “I’m sorry I screamed. I’m okay.”

As soon as his lids fell, he saw blood. He heard the guns and the bombs, the screams and the homes falling to the ground, and he opened his eyes immediately, swallowing nervously.

Fiona leaned into Alex, licking his face affectionately, and Alex could _hear_ her telling him to go back to sleep, that he was safe, that she would protect him.

_“She’ll guard you,”_ a familiar, soft voice rang in Alex’s ears, and Alex clenched his jaw.

“I’m okay,” he whispered, scratching Fiona’s ears. She licked his face until he couldn’t help but laugh, and moved to lie down next to him, her head taking up most of his pillow. Alex tried not to think of how tired she looked, and his smile softened as he pet her. He moved to lie next to her without falling off the bed, wrapping his arms around her, his head rested on her as if she was a pillow.

Alex sighed deeply as he closed his eyes, and with her soft fur against his cheek and her heart beating against his ear, Alex closed his eyes and saw no blood, no guns, no planes, no death. Only soft eyes, and a kind smile, and long brown hair, and warm hands holding him, and Alex welcomed it.

“What do you think?” Alex asked, one hand holding on his hip, the other holding onto the ladder as he looked down to Fiona. She tilted her head at him, then looked to the picture he’d just hung up. She barked and he laughed.

“Really?” He looked to the picture himself. “You don’t think it’s crooked?” Without a glance at her, he shrugged, and began coming climbing down. “Alright, if you say so.”

Fiona, instead of jumping to meet him when he touched the ground, just watched him slightly. Alex noticed she was hanging her head as if it tired her. _She’s gotten older_ , a voice in his head said. _It’s harder for to get around._

Alex swallowed, shaking the thought from his head. Fiona was fine, of course she was fine. Still, maybe a visit to the vet wouldn’t do any harm, just a quick checkup.

_“You sound worried, Private_ ,” he could almost hear Michael say, and nearly froze to his spot. It’d been nearly four months since he’d last spoken to Michael, asking him to stop calling. To his surprise, Michael had ignored him. Alex had gotten call after call, text after text, and Alex hadn’t responded to a single thing. There was never a point. Whatever Michael wanted to argue, he had chosen Maria. Alex had scrolled through the messages, begging Alex to call him back, to answer, about how _sorry_ he was for leaving Alex there.

Alex could only sigh.

“He really doesn’t know me at all, does he?” he’d said to Fiona only yesterday when another stream of texts from Michael had come in, though he could never bring himself to block the number. “It’s not about leaving me there to wait,” he’s said as he distractedly scratched her head. “He left me there to be with someone else. He doesn’t even see the problem.”

Alex voice had come down to a whisper by the end, and he snapped out of his thoughts when Fiona suddenly barked. She was looking up at him with her big eyes, less fierce now after her old age and big and concerned, and Alex couldn’t help but smile even a little. She was warning him not to upset himself again.

“You’re right,” he’d ended up saying, though something in his heart still yearned to see Michael, to talk to him, to hear his voice. He scoffed, shaking his head. He and Michael had never just talked before. He didn’t know what he was hoping for, but it definitely wasn’t something Michael had ever been willing to give.

He blinked, surprised to feel something wet on his fingers, and looked down to see Fiona licking his hand. It was as if she was trying to comfort him even though she was unable to do the things she used to.

Alex scratched her head fondly. “You want some turkey? Let’s go get you some turkey, maybe some trout.” He opened the fridge, Fiona slowly following behind him. “It’ll help you get back on your feet in no time.”

He put the food in her bowl, relief flooding his chest when she started eating hungrily. She hadn’t been eating in a while. “There you go, good girl,” he pet her back encouragingly. “Good girl.”

Fiona had certainly seemed more energetic after that, and though she wasn’t jumping, she had enough strength to follow Alex around the house as he did some spring cleaning. When Alex had to leave, she followed him with a whimper to the door, just as she used to do.

Alex smiled, crouching down as much as he could without putting too much weight on his right leg. After that last phone call with Michael, he had seriously neglected taking proper care of his leg, and while he’d gotten better at taking medication, thanks to Fiona’s constant insistence, he was still struggling to move around as easily, resorting to using his crutch, and limping more when he didn’t.

Fiona had a bottle of pills in her mouth now, nudging it toward Alex. He chuckled, scratching behind her ears before he took the bottle from her, his other arm holding on tightly to a pack of files.

“Thank you,” he said, and turned to leave before he felt a hold on the hem of his shirt. He nearly stumbled and fell, but his surprise came out in a laugh, and he hugged Fiona with one arm, placing a kiss to the top of her head. “I have to go meet Kyle for work. It’s just the bunker, I’ll be right back.”

Fiona continued to whimper even as Alex stood and opened the door. Alex turned to her, his brows furrowed. He couldn’t shake the feeling she was trying to tell him something, but since he couldn’t know what, and it didn’t look like the cabin was in danger or that they were in any harm, he could only scratch her head, and say, “I’ll see you tonight.”

Alex closed the door, his hands on the knob. He pressed his forehead against the wood, contemplating calling Kyle and telling him that he had to stay in today. _Something’s wrong_ , he couldn’t help but think, the sounds of Fiona’s continuing whimpers evident from the other side of the door. Then he shook the thought from his head. Everything was fine.

He’d spent enough time calling in excuses for not being able to come to work on Project Shepherd, unable to bear seeing Michael’s face staring back at him from his computer screen, and Kyle had been nearly out of his mind, sick with worry. Alex couldn’t put him through that again.

His fingers briefly tightened around the knob and he took off, getting into his car and driving toward the bunker, still hearing Fiona’s whimpers echo in his ears.

The sun had just set when Alex had gotten back, his eyes burning with exhaustion, his heart heavy with forcing himself to exit out of Michael’s file and look at some of the others. Every time he thought they were nearing an end, new information kept coming up, new sites to explore. The clouds had gathered overhead, and Alex felt the soft rain as he took the short walk from his car to his door. He would have to set up the fireplace and turn on the heater, the pain in his leg coming back at the cold.

“Fiona,” he called. “I’m home!”

But Fiona didn’t come running to the door, and there was no sign of her in the living room. “Fiona?”

Alex set the files down, wondering if he should call for delivery, when he walked into the bedroom and froze. Fiona was there, at the food of his bed, on her side. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t seem to be breathing.

“No,” Alex breathed, and hurried to her, falling to his knees at her side, one hand on her head, the other on her chest. “No, no, no.” Her heartbeat was very faint.

Alex quickly pulled his blanket off the bed, wrapping Fiona until everything but the top of her head and face was covered. He held her up, his heart wrenching with her tiny whimpers, and in his haste to stand, he stumbled and nearly fell, but he recovered himself quickly, limping to his car. The rain was strengthening, but Alex made sure to have Fiona completely hidden. He put her in the passenger’s seat, his own hair and clothes wet, and all but jumped into the driver’s seat.

“Don’t worry, girl,” he said as he pushed on the gas pedal, swerving onto the road. “You’re going to be fine, don’t worry.”

Fiona said nothing, only nudged her head slightly forward until her nose was touching Alex’s lap. Alex’s fingers on his steering wheel tightened.

“It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay,” Alex kept repeating, though he had no idea who he was trying to reassure.

When the animal hospital finally came into view, Alex all but jammed the brakes, and stepped out of his car, wincing as he put too much weight on his leg before he pushed past the pain and hurried to the passenger’s seat.

“Help!” he yelled before the automatic doors even completely opened. “Someone please help me!”

At once, a nurse came running forward. “It’s my dog,” Alex pleaded, holding the tightly wrapped bundle out for her to take. “Please help her, please.”

A doctor suddenly came forward, took note of Alex and Fiona, and told the nurse to quickly take her into one of the rooms. Alex gasped as he fell forward, the pain in his leg unbearable. A nurse knelt beside him, but he waved her off. He was fine, he had to be fine. For Fiona.

It felt like days had gone by before Alex was allowed inside Fiona’s room, and even longer as he sat by her bedside, one hand on her stomach, the other on her head. She looked up at Alex with nearly closed eyes, her whimpers so slight and quiet that Alex almost struggled to hear them at all.

“Too old for surgery,” the doctor’s words ran on in the background, Alex’s eyes on his baby, the way she watched him as if worried more for him than herself.

Alex felt a tear fall down his cheek, and he wiped it off on his shoulder quickly before he turned to face the doctor.

“Are there any options?” he asked, cutting the doctor off. “Surgery, transplant, _anything_.”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, “Her body’s too weak to take it –”

“ _Anything_.”

The doctor said nothing, his lips pressed together as he searched Alex’s face. Then –

“She’s lived a long, wonderful life,” he said, and Alex felt something in his chest fall, shattering for good. “I can tell you love her very much, and if I were you, I would think of what’s best for her now.”

Alex said nothing, his gaze slowly turned back to Fiona’s. She was still watching him.

_“Stay with Fiona, Alex. She’ll protect you in a way I never could. She’ll protect you, I promise.”_

_“And I’ll protect her, mom! I’ll keep her safe.”_

_“Of course you will. You’re a hero, Alex. That’s what heroes do.”_

He swallowed, his fists clenching in her fur. He clenched his jaw. It took him what felt like an hour to finally say, “I want to stay in here with her. Until the end.”

The doctor nodded, his voice quiet as he said, “Of course.”

Everything after that was a blur, only Fiona in focus as Alex crouched by her side, the pain in his leg dulled to a sting, his eyes on his baby. He kept a hand on her paw and one on her chest as nurses and the doctor came around the table, as the needle went in, as Fiona’s big eyes fluttered shut.

_I’m sorry I can’t stay with you longer_ , he could hear her say in her final moments. _I’m sorry I can’t protect you._

Alex shook his head, his forehead against Fiona’s as he felt her heartbeat slowly come to a stop beneath his palm. The tears had stopped, and Alex vaguely remembered getting up, leaving the room, getting into his car, and driving away.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel despite himself. The rain was beating down heavily now, the lump heavy in Alex’s throat, suffocating him. His car nearly screeched to a halt as he came up to a red light, his leg pushed down harshly on the brakes. His breathing turned shallower and faster, and soon, he was gasping for breath. He opened the window, not caring that the rain was soaking him and his car.

He didn’t dare look at the passenger’s seat, and as he drove, he briefly imagined that Fiona was still sitting there, her big eyes on him, scolding him.

_Close that window or you’ll catch a cold!_

But in the end, there was nothing. Nothing but the sound of the rain, of Alex’s car, and his breathing slowly turning steadier with the chill of the rain, keeping him focused.

When he came to park in front of his cabin, he noticed a figure standing by the door. He squinted. _Kyle_?

But no, as Alex turned his engine off, he realized it wasn’t his friend, but Michael Guerin standing there, hands in his pockets, his shoulders scrunched as he sat under the porch, safe from the rain.

Alex closed his car door warily as Michael realized who had come to park, and stepped into the rain.

“Alex,” he breathed, his expression one of… relief? “You really live here –”

“What the hell are you doing here, Guerin?” Alex asked, his voice quiet, but enough to make Michael stop in his tracks. “I told you I didn’t want to talk to you.”

Alex started to walk past Michael, but his wrist was suddenly grabbed. “Alex, listen to me –”

“How’d you find me?”

He hesitated, then, “I asked Max.”

Alex closed his eyes. _Of course_. Kyle and Liz used to date, so Kyle must’ve mentioned it once to Liz that Alex had moved into his father’s old cabin. At least, that was what Alex would assume. After the whole Michael and Maria incident, he hadn’t really spoken to Maria or Liz at all.

“How long have you been waiting here?”

Michael tried to meet his eyes, but Alex couldn’t look at him. Not now. Not tonight. “A couple of hours.”

Alex frowned. So he really had been at the hospital for a while.

He removed his wrist from Michael’s hold, and continued limping to the cabin door. He had to remember to take his medication, though he wasn’t struggling with the pain. In fact, he almost didn’t feel it. Fiona would scold him if he forgot, but then she wasn’t there to give it to him.

“Alex, I just want to talk to you –”

“Not tonight,” Alex said thoughtlessly, his hand coming up to grip the wooden rail.

“Alex, just look at me! You wanted me here, so I’m here, at least let me just explain –”

“ _Please_ ,” Alex’s voice cracked despite himself, and Michael turned silent, but still, Alex couldn’t bear to see him. He sighed shakily, his whole body tired. “Not tonight.”

Without waiting for Michael’s response, he limped up the few steps to his porch, unlocked the door, and walked in.

“Alex –” he heard before he closed the door, and all was quiet. He kept his back pressed against the wood a moment as he took in the dark living room. He half-expected a bark to come from one of the rooms, to see Fiona running in with her ears flapping, her tongue out, her paws up, waiting for Alex to shake them.

But no one was there. Alex could make out Michael shuffling outside, but chose to ignore him. Michael would only bring more pain, his explanations only an attempt to justify his feelings for Maria. Because he felt guilty. And Alex didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t care how Michael had fallen for her, or when, or why. All that mattered was that he did. All that mattered was that he had chosen someone else.

And now. Now the cabin was empty, hints of Fiona everywhere. He took a deep breath, unable to unclench his jaw as he made his way to the couch in his living room, and lay down on it, hugging his arms. He couldn’t cry, but he felt something heavy in chest, begging him to do it.

_You’ll be relieved_ , part of him said. _You’ll feel better._

“I can’t,” Alex muttered, a small part of him hoping that Michael would hear him from outside and know what to do, if he hadn’t left already. “If I start, I’ll never stop. It’ll kill me. I could never stop.”

He was soaked, but felt no will to change into something dry and warm, no urge to have some coffee or soup or anything to warm his stomach. Without Fiona, he just wanted to lie here and quietly fall asleep and never wake up.

*

“Guerin?” Michael heard, and whipped around, surprised to find Kyle there. “What’re you doing here?”

“ _Valenti_?” Michael blinked. “You’re here to see Alex?”

“Of course I am,” Kyle said. “I didn’t hear from him yesterday, so I got worried.” He moved to the potted plant, taking something from underneath it that glinted in the sunlight. A key.

Michael’s brows furrowed. “You… you know where the spare key is?”

Kyle raised a brow. “Don’t you?” When Michael said nothing, his heart heavy in his chest at the thought of Alex telling Kyle how to get inside, Kyle’s shoulders fell. “Crap, don’t tell him I showed you. Pretend you never saw this.”

Michael straightened. “I don’t think Alex would mind if it was me.”

Kyle shook his head, muttering, “I think he’d mind _because_ it was you.” And he turned his back to Michael as he unlocked the door. Good thing, too, or he would’ve noticed the way Michael’s face fell, his expression ridden with guilt and misery.

Alex had told _Kyle Valenti_ how to get into his home, and he wouldn’t even tell Michael where it was. Kyle hadn’t heard from Alex in a _day_ , and had worried enough to come check on him. How long had the two been working together? How many hours had they spent together? How close were they? Michael hadn’t even taken notice of Alex’s silence, being so used to it already, but Alex…

“Alex?” Michael snapped out of his thoughts as Kyle stepped into the cabin, and he followed silently. Even if Alex saw him and got disappointed, even if he angrily told him to get out, Michael desperately wanted to see him.

He’d never been so terrified in his life as he was when Alex had told him never to call again, his voice completely devoid of any emotion, as if Alex didn’t feel _anything_ for him anymore. He’d wracked his brain trying to fix things, but Alex refused to see him, refused to trust him again. Michael swallowed nervously as he told himself that _any_ emotion he got from Alex would be better than nothing, even anger.

“Alex,” Michael breathed when his eyes fell on Alex in the living room. Right away, he knew something was wrong. Kyle turned to where Michael was looking, and his frown deepened.

“Alex?”

The two hurried up to him, crouching beside him. He was dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing two nights ago, Michael noted. He told Kyle as such, not forgetting to mention that Alex had been soaked then.

His face was pale, his lips almost blue, his body trembling even in his sleep. Kyle barely managed to put a finger to Alex’s forehead before he pulled back, his eyes wide.

“He’s burning up like a furnace,” Kyle said, pulling his phone out. “We have to call an ambulance.”

“Alex,” Michael put his hand to Alex’s face, resisting the urge to snap his hand back. Kyle was right; Alex was _burning_. He shuttered as then question of how the airman could still be alive briefly passed through his mind before he quickly pushed it away. “Alex, what did you do?”

_More like what did_ you _do?_ A voice in his head taunted. _You did this to him. This happened after he saw_ you _. You did this._

Michael shook his head. Did Alex really not want to see him _this_ badly?

“Stupid Private, what did you do?”

Michael wouldn’t move from Alex’s bedside, his eyes on the sleeping airman as an IV strip pushed some kind of fluid into his arm.

“We have to keep him on pain medication,” Kyle said as he came to stand beside him, his hands in his doctor’s coat, though not before Michael noticed them clench to fists. “In addition to the fever, he forgot to take his pills, so –”

“The pain and fever put together were too much for him to handle,” Michael finished, not moving his gaze from Alex’s face.

Kyle stiffly nodded. “He should be okay, but he needs a lot of rest. The only problem is…”

Michael’s frown deepened. “Alex never rests.”

“Yeah,” he said, then lightly pushed Alex’s bangs off his forehead, his thumb softly grazing Alex’s cheek. Michael bit his cheek and tried to force the jealousy down.

Of course Kyle could touch him. They were obviously very close, and as much as Michael hated it, he didn’t think Alex would’ve minded it. Not like he would’ve minded Michael touching him.

Alex’s eyes suddenly fluttered, snapping Michael out of his thoughts. Michael leaned in, his hand close to Alex’s, desperately want to take a hold of it and kiss his fingers. “Alex?”

“Alex,” Kyle breathed, and Alex’s eyes slowly moved from Michael to the doctor, “are you okay?”

“Kyle,” Alex barely said, his voice hoarse. “Kyle.”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Kyle leaned in, forcing Michael back. He cupped Alex’s jaw. “I’m here, what is it? What happened?”

“Kyle,” Alex whispered, and Michael was shocked to see Alex’s eyes fill with tears, his lower lip quivering as he seemed to realize where he was. “I… I…”

“Alex, hey, talk to me,” Kyle urged, one hand pushing Alex’s hair back. “Talk to me, what’s wrong? I’m right here, what’s wrong?”

But it was as if Alex couldn’t talk. He looked around, as if searching for someone, but when he couldn’t find them, he burst into tears.

“Alex,” Kyle breathed, and Michael was glad that he wasn’t the only one shocked. He’d never seen Alex really cry like this, his head turned away, his hand on his eyes as if he thought it was enough to hide him, though he kept his hand in Kyle’s coat, clenching the fabric tightly. “Alex, what’s wrong? What…”

He trailed off, seemingly not knowing what else to say.

“Alex,” Michael tried, and Alex turned further away, hiding his face as his sobs grew quieter and more miserable.

In the end, Alex was only able to say something about someone named Fiona. “I had to… I had to…”

And Kyle seemed to understand enough for his shoulders to fall. He pulled Alex to his chest, holding him tightly as he cried into his shirt. It had been too much for Michael to watch, and he stepped out.

It wasn’t until Alex had cried himself to sleep that Michael was able to come see him through the glass. He watched him as Kyle came to stand beside him, obviously tired, thought he refused to change out of his soaked shirt. Michael tried not to let that get to him, though he couldn’t help but clench his jaw.

“Who’s Fiona?” he ended up asking.

“Alex’s beagle,” Kyle said quietly, also watching Alex with an unreadable look in his eyes. “Gift from his mom when he was a kid.”

Michael frowned. “His mom? I thought –”

“Before she left,” Kyle clarified. “She never took Alex with her cause he reminded her too much of Jesse. I remember when Alex told me when we were kids, before…” he cleared his throat. “Anyway, she got him the beagle when they had gone out together. For a minute, _one_ minute, she saw him as Alex, and got him the dog. She told him it was all she could do for someone like him. ‘A Manes,’ she said. ‘Through and through.’”

Michael’s brows furrowed. “His _mom_ said that to him?”

“Alex started to look like him way before he ever joined the military,” Kyle said, then shrugged. “At least that’s what he keeps telling me. I don’t see it.”

“So Fiona was the last thing he had of his mom,” Michael realized.

“Yes,” Kyle hesitated, “and no. I don’t know, he’s had people leave before, it’s never broken him. It’s never been enough to send him over the edge,” he glanced at Michael, then away, his gaze defiant. “And he’s been tipping for a long time, I know that much. But I think Fiona was the last proof he had that… he was good. That he was just… Alex. Now that’s gone, too.”

_Too?_ Michael wanted to ask, but at the look Kyle was giving him, Michael found himself unable to say the word. He remembered the way Alex used to look at him, like he was the greatest thing the airman had ever known. Like he was special, like he meant something. Then –

_We weren’t dating. You didn’t betray me._

Michael inhaled sharply, trying to will the burn in his eyes away. Alex – his Alex – had numbly told him not to call again, and for months, Michael had not stopped to think of what he’d done to the airman. He’d been so preoccupied with what losing Alex had done to him, how it shattered him, that he never thought of the pain Alex had been in.

_Did you forget? Or did you do it on purpose?_

Alex had genuinely believed that Michael had either forgotten about him, or ditched him, and Michael had no comforting answer to give. He’d thought of himself only – he hadn’t even _considered_ Alex. Just what going back would do to him. He imagined Alex now, his bones aching as he waited for the man he loved, the man who would never come, and he felt a tear roll down his cheek.

“Will he be okay?” Michael eventually asked.

“With some rest and water, he’ll be –”

“No, Valenti,” Michael grit out. “Will he be _okay_?”

And it killed him to have to ask Kyle, to know that Kyle would know better than anyone about Alex, but as he watched the airman sleep, his fingers twitching slightly every now and then, his brows furrowing as if he was suffering from another nightmare, Michael couldn’t find himself to care. So long as he could stay beside Alex, so long as he could get an honest and caring answer. And he _knew_ the only other person who cared as much about Alex as he did was Kyle.

_Not more_ , he thought. No one could ever love him more.

After a moment, Kyle sighed. “He’s Alex. He’s always okay.”


	196. Malex & Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One way I hope 2x13 will end.

Michael had been so mesmerized staring at Alex, hearing his beautiful voice as he sang, that he hadn’t noticed Isobel was watching him.

“Michael,” her voice was soft when she spoke, as if not daring to break the almost palpable bond connecting Alex and Michael across the room. “Just tell him.”

“Tell him?” he asked, unable to look away from the airman. He’d always known Alex could sing, but never like _that_. Never so angelically, so otherworldly, so _beautifully._

“The truth,” she said, and when Michael didn’t respond --

“That you love him.”

Her words cut through Michael’s thoughts, and Michael turned to look at her. Isobel was watching him without judgement or cruelty or mockery. Instead, her gaze was full of kindness, and love, and understanding.

Michael swallowed, shaking his head. “I’m dating Maria.”

“I’ve watched you try with Maria,” Isobel said. “I know you like her. But you _love_ Alex. Michael, he’s _right there_. Just tell him.”

Michael’s fingers curled to fists on his jeans. In the spotlight, Alex’s hair turned to chestnut, his eyes glimmering green. But Michael had seen the airman in his uniform, the straight set of his back and shoulders, the eyes that refused to look up at anybody. He’d seen Alex in his sweats, his hair soft and his cheeks rosy. He’d seen Alex in his black jeans and leather jacket; a rebel, a hero, a friend to anyone who needed him.

And Michael _needed_ him. He had _always_ needed him. He wanted Alex, and he had no idea how impossible it would be to _breathe_ without him until he’d gone missing. But now Alex was here, and safe, and singing. And all Michael had to do was reach out and take him.

As the last note played and the bar cheered, Michael reached for Isobel’s hand.

“I’m going to tell him,” he decided.

“Okay,” Isobel encouraged.

“I’m going to tell him right now.”

“Good!” she laughed, and Michael stood, patting down his shirt, fixing the hat on his head.

Alex was stepping off the stage, his smile wide, his eyes bright, and his cheeks flushed. Michael couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. He took a deep breath and stepped towards Alex --

Just as Alex took the last few steps down, took Forrest’s face in his hands, and kissed him. In front of the whole bar.

Michael was vaguely aware of the cheers roaring louder, but it had turned to background noise, the smile slipping off his face, his heart turned to a heavy weight that had him stumbling before he stilled completely.

Forrest’s eyes were wide when Alex let him go, but his smile was wider than it ever could’ve been. Alex himself was laughing, a mixture of overwhelmed and pleased. As they rested their foreheads together, Alex’s eyes closed and Forrest’s adoring, Michael knew it was too late.

He was too late.


	197. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is reassigned to DC.

Alex held a fist over the airstream door, hesitated a moment, then knocked.

He stepped back and the door swung open a few seconds later. Michael looked startled to see the airman, but his lips quickly settled into a smirk, his eyes soft.

“Private,” he said. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

“Sorry, I –” Alex started and stopped. “I, um –”

“Alex, I’m kidding,” Michael said, his brows furrowed slightly as his eyes fell on Alex’s hands, tightly pressed together. “Is everything okay?”

Alex searched his face. Michael always seemed to be washed in gold, no matter the time of day. His heart felt like lead in his chest, and he had the horrible feeling he might cry. He clenched his jaw. What he would’ve given to have more time, but he had to remind himself that that wasn’t Michael’s way. He had to remind himself _why_ he was coming to see Michael last minute. It might’ve been cruel, but Alex thought he had earned the right to be selfish, just this once.

“Can we talk? It’s important.”

Michael, his brows still furrowed, nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

He began to lead the way into the trailer, but Alex stepped further back, leading the way to the chairs laid out outside. Michael’s frown deepened, but he followed the airman.

Alex and Michael sat down, and Alex watched as Michael leaned forward on his knees. The way his muscled arms clenched and his green-gold eyes looked Alex up and down. Alex exhaled a shaky breath.

“I think . . . um . . .” he started, but at the intensity of Michael’s eyes, he faltered. He rubbed his face. “Guerin . . . I like to think that you and I . . . well . . . we’ve gotten close, right? I mean, we’re – we’re friends?”

Michael’s expression had brightened for all of a second before it cooled again, and he smirked, not unkindly. “Yeah, private. We’re friends.” When Alex didn’t finish, Michael leaned forward, covering Alex’s hands with his own. “Hey. What happened?”

Slowly, Alex turned his hands under Michael’s and gripped his fingers. Michael’s smile softened and he moved closer.

“I think we’re in a better place than we’ve ever been,” Alex said. “You know what you mean to me. Don’t you?”

Michael’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but his smile widened slightly. “Yeah. I feel the same way about you, Alex.”

Alex smiled for a half-second before the words forced themselves up his throat and his heart hammered painfully in his chest. “I got a call yesterday.”

Michael’s expression flickered. “A call?” His hand tightened on Alex’s. “What call?”

Alex swallowed. “Guerin . . . I’ve been reassigned to the base in DC.”

Michael stared and said nothing for a long time. His smile gone, his voice barely above a whisper, he asked, “When?”

“Tonight.”

“For how long?”

“A year.”

“Why?”

“What?”

Michael met his eyes again, his hand slipping from Alex’s. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”

Alex sighed, already cold at the loss of contact. “Every time you’ve known a goodbye was coming, you’ve run away from it.”

“Alex –”

“ _Guerin_. I know it’s selfish, and I know you’re mad at me, and you have every right, but . . . Michael, I _love_ you. I was afraid of what you would do –”

“How can you even _say_ that to me?” Michael said angrily, rising to his feet. “You’re leaving _again_.”

“I’m not leaving forever, and I don’t have a choice,” Alex said, his eyes burning as he followed Michael to his feet. “You _know_ I don’t have a choice, this isn’t like every other time!” He took Michael’s face in his hands despite the furious set of the cowboy’s lips.

“Listen to me, _please_ ,” Alex said. “I love you, more than anything, and I _swear_ I’m coming back this time. I don’t want to leave you, Guerin, I want to stay here. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Michael’s jaw clenched as he wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist and pulled him in against him, their foreheads pressed roughly together, enough to bruise. Michael’s touch was painful, but that was okay. Alex could always breathe better when Michael was near, when he was touching him.

Alex tilted his chin forward to take Michael’s lips, but then the cowboy growled, “Go to DC, then. See if I care.”

And with one quick motion, he released Alex, leaving him stumbling back as he stomped into the airstream and slammed the door behind him. Alex’s lower lip quivered as he was left staring at the spot where Michael had just been standing.

He looked to the airstream door a moment, half-expecting Michael to come out at any second, to kiss him, to tell him he was sorry and that. . . .

What else? Alex didn’t exactly know what he’d hoped for from Michael, but this couldn’t have been it. They couldn’t really have fallen back to square one, could they?

But Michael wasn’t coming out, and Alex couldn’t hear a single sound, and he knew that his cowboy would not be coming back out to see him. With a short, miserable huff, and a heart like stone weighing him down, Alex turned and left, only hoping that Michael didn’t hate him for good this time.

It was raining, the storm heavy on Alex’s windshield as he drove across the dark plains of Roswell. His duffel bag was packed and in the passenger’s seat. He had said his goodbyes to everyone without shedding a tear, though plenty enough were spilled for him. He had promised he would call once he was settled, and be back before any of them knew he was gone. He had a total number of _one_ missed call to Michael which, to no one’s surprise, had not been answered.

As he drove, he thought of only two things. The first was Michael, because of course it was. The look on his face when Alex had told him, the look on his face as Alex had _led_ _up_ to it. He had seemed so sure that Alex was going to tell him something else, something that he seemed just as eager to get out himself. The way he’d clung to Alex afterwards, as if silently begging him not to go. And then he’d pushed Alex away, as Alex had feared he would.

He wondered if Michael would respond to his calls in a few days, maybe a few _weeks_. Whatever the case, Alex wouldn’t give up this time. He would call Michael every day, and _reassure_ him that he was coming back. He would count the days, and take advantage of every chance he had to return. He knew that this time things were different, and Alex would not stop fighting until he and Michael were back together.

The second thing that Alex was vaguely aware of was that the car behind him had their headlights on, and they were a little too bright, and the person driving was a little too much of an idiot. Alex turned a corner, trying to get the blinding light out of his mirror, but as he swerved, so did the car behind him. Alex sighed and changed lanes, but the car followed him still.

Alex’s brows furrowed. He turned one more corner and changed one more lane to test it, but no matter what, the car following wasn’t backing down or moving on. Alex’s shoulders straightened. So he was being trailed.

He was just beginning to consider reaching into the glove compartment for his gun, in case he needed to protect himself, when the lights in his mirror dimmed slightly, and Alex realized that it wasn’t just any car; it was Michael’s truck.

“What the hell . . .?” he muttered.

Alex frowned and drove to the side of the road before he turned the engine off. Michael did the same, and just as Alex stepped out into the pouring rain, instantly soaked, Michael had already stepped out and was coming over to him.

“What were you thinking?” he demanded over the loud storm. “I almost –”

But Michael had not let Alex finish. He had reached the airman only to take his face in his hands and crash their mouths together. Alex made a sound like a startled whimper in the back of his throat before melting into the kiss, his arms coming around Michael’s waist, his hands gipping the cowboy’s shoulders desperately.

Michael pushed Alex against his car and pressed his body against Alex’s, tilting his head to kiss him deeper. Despite the cold surrounding them, Alex felt Michael’s body heat against his, the warmth in his own chest and gut as Michael pressed into him deeply.

Michael pulled back for them to breathe, their foreheads tightly together.

“I’ll wait for you,” Michael panted. “I’ll wait as long as it takes, Private.”

“Guerin . . .”

“I’ll wait right here for you. I’ll come visit you. We _will_ be together, Alex, even if it kills me. I’ve seen what life’s like without you, and I’d rather die. So finish what you need to do, then come back to me. Come home.”

Alex snaked his fingers through Michael’s curls and pulled him in to kiss again. “I’ll come back to you,” he whispered, and somehow, despite the rain, he knew Michael could hear him clearly. “I promise.”


	198. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex gets amnesia.

“It’s a good thing we’re both level-headed people, otherwise this would be really scary,” Liz said, and Alex smiled.

He looked over his shoulder at the scientist, pacing the cave floor. Her fingers were covered with scars, her nails cut up and ruined from scratching at the rock walls, but still she looked for handholds, anything to hang onto.

“Good thing,” he muttered, squinting up at the small circle of open sky high above their heads. When he and Liz had walked the desert plains, looking for any sign of other pods that may have been saved and hidden, he had not expected to come across a burrow in the cave walls. He had expected even less to slip through one of them after trying to catch Liz who’d lost her footing.

Alex sat back against the cave wall, the pain in his leg on the fall down having been too much to help him stand for long. He put his head in his hands, and looked up to see Liz watching him with concern.

He chuckled. “You need to calm down.”

“This is all my fault,” Liz said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Alex—”

“Liz, I’m _fine_.”

“If I’d just watched where I was standing—”

“Seriously, you need to stop,” Alex said. “Michael and the others will find us, they’ll use their powers, and we’ll be out in no time – would you please stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy.”

“Sorry,” Liz said, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed tightly. A beat, two, then—“Do you need some water? I still have my bottle.”

“You do remember that I’m an Air Force captain, right?” Alex asked. “Believe it or not, I have dealt with worse than being stuck in a cave.”

Liz nodded to herself. “You’re really not scared at all?”

“Michael will come,” Alex said, leaning his head back, his eyes fluttering shut. The rocks poked his head, but he was so weary from the fall, barely managing to turn his body at the last second to land on his crouched legs, that he couldn’t muster the energy to move anymore. “You’ll see.”

“You believe in him,” Liz said. It wasn’t a question, but an observation. And it seemed to help take her mind off the situation, so Alex nodded.

“I trust him with my life,” he said. “Don’t worry, Liz. Everything’s going to be okay. You want to come sit next to me?”

Liz looked conflicted between wanting to take Alex’s offer, and afraid of looking weak. But her pant leg was torn and she was bleeding and there was a bruise on her cheek that was turning an alarming shade of purple, and Alex knew what it felt like to want protection and be afraid of asking for it.

He reached a hand out to her, and she hesitated for a second longer before crossing the unsteady grounds and taking it, latching onto his arm and clinging to him as they waited. He hummed his song quietly, the one he’d sang at the Wild Pony all those nights ago, the one that had given him the courage to seek something with Forrest, to kiss him. The one he had not sang since because of a cowboy that had decided not to stay. Still—

Alex heard Michael calling his name, and without even opening his eyes, the corners of his lips quirked up.

“Here comes the cavalry,” he muttered.

“Is that Michael?” Liz straightened, her eyes wide.

“Always the hero,” Alex said with a small smile.

“Alex!”

“Liz!” Max’s voice sounded.

“Alex, where are you?!”

Alex pushed himself off the cave wall as Liz stepped into the circle of light shining down from the only exit they had.

“Michael!” Liz called. “Max! We’re in here!”

“Liz?” Max’s head appeared in the opening, followed quickly by Michael’s.

“Where’s Alex?” Michael asked urgently. “Is he with you?”

“I’m right here,” Alex called, wincing as he stood. He covered his eyes with his hands at falling rubble from the cave ceiling. He narrowed his eyes at the rock. Was it about to collapse?

“Are you guys okay?” Max asked, and Liz nodded.

“Yeah, we’re fine, but . . . the footholds aren’t strong enough to carry us out.”

Max and Michael looked to each other, and Max nodded once, as if they’d just shared some silent plan.

“I’ll keep you guys up with my telekinesis,” Michael said.

“I’ll reach down,” Max said. “I can pull you guys up the rest of the way.”

“Hey, Max,” Alex called as Liz nodded and began to climb. “Watch your head. The ceiling doesn’t look stable to me.”

“Got it,” Max said.

Alex started to climb after Liz, but more rubble fell, and he stepped back, covering his eyes. “Alex?” Liz called worriedly, glancing over her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Alex rubbed his face. “Look, Liz, you go on ahead of me.”

“ _What_?!”

“If there’s too much vibration, the cave might collapse,” Alex said. “We should go one at a time.”

Michael leaned down. “If the cave is going to collapse, you’re not waiting, Alex. Climb.”

“ _Guerin_ —”

“ _Climb_ , private!”

Alex sighed, and followed Liz. They made it halfway before a lot more rubble fell, this time enough for everyone else to notice.

“Hurry,” Max said, stretching an arm out as far as he can go. Michael’s face had turned red with the effort of keeping both Alex and Liz up. Alex knew he wouldn’t hold out much longer.

“Alex,” Liz warned, and Alex put a hand on her back.

“Keep going, Liz,” he said, his fingers also stained with his blood and rubble from the sharp rocks. “I’m right behind you.”

Except he wasn’t. His leg ached so badly that his eyes burned with the strain of keeping himself up. A few more steps and he was starting to feel woozy, his breathing heavier, his grip weaker. Max reached for Liz, and Alex felt the cave vibrating with an impending attack.

Max may have been focused on Liz, but Michael’s eyes were on Alex. Somehow, Michael knew that Alex was struggling more than Liz was, and he was focusing on keeping the airman up. But Alex wouldn’t make it. The ceiling was about to collapse, and Liz was closest to the exit. If she didn’t get out now, those rocks would fall on both their heads.

Liz reached for Max, their fingers touched, more rubble fell, and Alex spotted a foothold high enough just for him to reach.

He caught Michael’s eye, unable to hold the contact for long before he forced himself up the foothold. He came up just behind Liz’s back with nothing to hold onto, but that was fine. He wasn’t looking to stay up.

With all of his strength, he pushed Liz up the rest of the way, just as the cave ceiling collapsed. Then several things happened. Liz got out on the other side of the rocks. Max caught her. Michael screamed for Alex, but it was too late. Alex was falling backwards, and just before he blacked out, he felt a searing pain in his head, the small bit of light disappeared, and someone, though he couldn’t tell who, was calling for him.

*

Michael couldn’t forget Alex’s face. The way he’d glanced at Michael before he’d shoved Liz through the exit, as if in quick, silent apology. But now, as Michael sat at Alex’s hospital bedside, the airman’s head wrapped in a white bandage, a respirator helping him breathe, the monitor’s steady _beep beep beep_ , waiting for his Alex to wake up, Michael felt he could do nothing but mutter silent apologies himself into Alex’s fingers.

Alex had warned them, but Michael couldn’t hear him. Not when his airman’s life had been at risk. And now it was at risk again.

“Hey,” he heard Max’s voice, a hand on his shoulder. “You need to rest.”

“I’ll rest when he wakes up,” Michael said, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

“Michael,” Max said. “He’s asleep. He’s not going anywhere—”

“You heard Kyle,” he said without taking his eyes off Alex. “Severe head trauma.”

“Michael, that wasn’t your fault.”

“He tried to tell us, but I just couldn’t think straight seeing him down there.”

“I _get_ it,” Max said. “I would’ve done the same for Liz. She’s ridden with guilt, too – _Michael_ , you both can’t blame yourselves.”

“I’m not leaving him, Max,” Michael said. “When he wakes up, he’s going to find me right here.”

Max sounded like he wanted to argue, but Michael leaned forward on his knees, Alex’s hand clutched tightly in his, and his brother seemed to relent.

“All right,” Max whispered a moment later. “Well, Gregory’s on his way. He was frantic when I told him about Alex, so heads up on that.”

Michael heard Max leave the room, closing the door behind him, and he kissed Alex’s fingers. He tried closing his eyes, and saw only Alex’s body on the cave floor, lying in a pool of his own blood, his hair soaked red. And now he was covered in bandaged cuts, oiled-up bruises, and a bandage around his head that glared threateningly at Michael, as if to say that no one who had had so much damage to their head usually survived, and Alex would be no exception.

 _If he wakes up_ , Michael thought to anyone who would listen, _if you give him back to me, I’ll do anything._ _Please, just give him back to me._

Hours later, Gregory arrived, swinging the door wide open, breathing heavily. “Where is he, where’s . . .” his words trailed off as he spotted Alex on the bed.

And so Michael and Gregory silently sat, on opposite ends of Alex’s bed, Gregory’s head in his hands, Michael’s hold on Alex’s hand relentless. Forrest, they were told, would not be coming because he was out of town and was better off not knowing.

“Alex _will_ wake up,” Kyle had said. “There’s no point in calling Forrest here.” But even to Michael, the doctor sounded more hopeful than certain.

That was why, when Alex’s eyes fluttered open around dusk, his fingers twitching in Michael’s, everyone (because everyone else had soon come to join Michael and Gregory in their wait) was instantly on their feet.

Kyle had rushed in almost at once, and helped ease the respirator off Alex.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, his voice soft. “How are you feeling?”

Alex’s brows were furrowed with pain as Kyle helped him sit up against his pillows. Michael instinctively took his hand the moment Kyle had stepped back, and Alex looked startled.

“Do you remember what happened?”

Alex slowly shook his head, his eyes still on Michael’s hand tightly gripping his own. Michael probably should’ve let go then, but he couldn’t. In fact, if not for the slight frown on Alex’s lips, Michael would’ve been willing to slide into bed with him, to hold him tightly in his arms. He thought he showed great restraint by refraining.

“Alex, we were in a cave,” Liz said quietly, coming up to Michael’s side. “You saved me. You really don’t remember?”

Alex blinked. “I . . . saved you?” Liz nodded, and Michael touched Alex’s cheek.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Don’t force yourself.”

“Um,” was all Alex said turning away from Michael’s touch, as if uncomfortable by it. “Sorry, could you . . .?” He trailed off, gesturing at his hand caught between both of Michael’s, and slowly, his heart quickly turning to lead, Michael let him go.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” Michael said. “I should’ve been able to save you. I – I should’ve listened –”

“You were there?” Alex asked. “At the cave?”

“Yeah, Alex,” Max nodded, frowning. “So was I.”

Alex winced, reaching up to touch his head only to feel a bandage wrapped tightly around it instead. He turned to Gregory, looking more and more confused. “Were you there, too?”

“No,” Gregory said, taking a seat beside Alex, putting an arm around his shoulders. “No, little brother, but I should’ve been. Problems tend to follow the Manes men wherever we go.”

Alex’s frown deepened. “Manes . . . men. . . .” He was starting to look panicked. Michael reached for him again, but he flinched away as if the cowboy’s touch burned him. “I don’t . . . uh . . .”

“Alex, hey, what’s going on?” Gregory tried as Alex even turned away from his brother.

“I don’t remember anything.”

“No, hey, Alex,” Kyle tried, putting his hands on Alex’s shoulders to calm him down. “We know, it’s okay, don’t force yourself to remember.”

“No, I – I don’t know _anything_!” Alex said desperately, and Kyle’s expression was confused for only a second longer before it fell.

“Wait a second, wait, it’s okay. Hey, _look at me_ ,” he said. Once he had Alex’s attention, he asked, “Do you know what your name is?”

“Uh . . . I . . .” he stammered, then looked to Gregory, and tried, “A-Alex Manes?”

Kyle clenched his jaw. “Did you remember that on your own? Or is it because that’s what we’ve been calling you?”

Michael’s heart quickly turned to stone, and he could hear the word, “No,” escape his lips in a whisper as Alex asked, “That’s . . . not my name?”

Kyle’s hands fell back to his sides. “You don’t know who any of us are, do you?”

Alex miserably shook his head. Liz covered her mouth with her hands, Max put a comforting arm around her, but Alex looked terrified of everyone around him. Gregory slowly moved off the bed, his dark eyes on his brother, and Michael tried moving closer, but Alex scooted back to avoid him.

Then he seemed to realize he had only one leg. And he screamed.

Everything happened very quickly after that. Michael tried to comfort Alex, but Max and Liz had dragged him out. Gregory helped Kyle still Alex while they sedated him, and as Alex’s room door closed, Michael saw Alex’s face, terrified and streaked with tears.

It felt like days later when Kyle and Gregory emerged, though Michael knew it couldn’t have been more than an hour. Michael was on his feet in a second, the white wall having given him enough back pains that he was sure he wouldn’t be properly asleep for weeks, Alex’s expression after he’d awoken the worst haunting of all.

“He’s asleep for now,” Kyle said when Michael, Max, and Liz crowded him. “Should be for the rest of the night. You guys should go home.”

“What _happened_ to him?” Liz asked. “Has he got amnesia now?”

“I’m going to need a second opinion,” Kyle said. “Neurology isn’t really my specialty. And he’s going to need an MRI, and—”

“Valenti,” Michael said through grit teeth. “Give us your best guess.”

Kyle sighed. “He sustained a major head injury when he fell. Best guess? It’s pretty simple; he’s suffering memory loss.”

“How long will it last?” Max asked.

“Well, usually this kind of thing goes away after a few days. In most cases, after a few weeks. But some cases . . .”

“Yeah?” Liz prompted.

Kyle shook his head. “Look, Alex is a war vet. He has enough memories he wants to keep hidden away, he’s been through enough trauma. Usually, the brain takes to blocking a lot of that stuff out, but with Alex, he’s barely been keeping it at bay. All I’m saying is, it may take a little longer for him.”

“Can I take him home?” Gregory asked softly.

“No, I can—” Michael started, but Kyle was already turning him down.

“I’m sorry, Guerin, really, but,” he sighed. “It may be better for his brother to take him. We don’t want to force the memories back, that’ll just put a strain on the brain. And besides, Gregory probably has more happy memories with Alex than you do. He’s already freaking out with finding out that he has one leg, we should keep his trip down memory lane as smooth as possible.”

It meant something, it really did, when a _Manes man_ could be said to have more happy memories with Alex than Michael did, and then have those words be true.

Eventually, Max and Liz were convinced to leave, give Alex space, but Michael stayed watching from the corners. He watched as Alex was led out of the room, leaning against Gregory as he tested his weight on his prosthetic, the prosthetic he’s worn for years, and the one he struggled with now.

Michael watched as Alex asked question after question, Gregory answering patiently and with kindness.

“Where are we going?”

“Your house.”

“But . . . I don’t remember where that is.”

“It’s okay, I do.”

“Are you staying with me?”

“If you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

“Then, I’m staying with you.”

Slowly, Alex got used to Gregory brushing his bangs away, to holding onto his brother’s arm, to leaning more of his weight against him. Gregory handed back a clipboard of paperwork to a nurse, and led Alex out to his car. Michael then got into his own and followed.

His hands were tight on the wheel, his gaze focused straight ahead. He stayed well behind Gregory’s car and parked behind a cluster of trees as the Manes brothers came to a stop. They both stepped out, and Michael watched as Alex looked around at his home, completely unfamiliar with it.

“I live here?” Alex asked, and Gregory’s smile turned small as he nodded. He reached an arm out, and Alex hesitated before coming to his side, allowing his brother to put an arm around his shoulders. He gave Alex his own spare key, told him to go on ahead and make himself comfortable, and disappeared around the corner.

Michael peered closer around the fence, watching as Alex stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him. He was just starting to think that the old Alex would never have kept his home open, even with his brother right behind him, when he felt someone yank him back, and he was pushed against the wall.

“What the—” Michael started, but once he saw Gregory, he relaxed.

“Damn it, Guerin,” Gregory sighed. “You’re following us now?”

“You knew?”

Gregory raised a brow. “You do know the whole Manes family is _military_ , right? There’s not much we _don’t_ know.”

“I want to see Alex,” he said, knowing what Gregory’s answer would be before the words even left his lips.

“You heard Kyle,” Gregory said, not unkindly. “You don’t have a lot of great memories with him—”

“I won’t remind him of anything, I’ll just quietly sit there,” Michael said, and he knew he sounded desperate, but Alex didn’t remember who he was or what they meant to each other, and being away from the airman had been agonizing before, but Alex _needed_ him now, and Michael _needed_ to be near him.

“Please, Greg,” Michael tried. “I just – I just want to be next to him. If his boyfriend can’t be here—”

“No, Forrest isn’t Alex’s boyfriend,” Gregory said dismissively. “They’ve just gone out a few times, Alex told me – but that’s not the point!” he added quickly as Michael’s expression turned surprised and hopeful despite himself.

“He doesn’t know who I am,” Michael said, aware that he was pleading and not caring. “He won’t let me touch him. _Please_. I won’t say a word.”

Gregory searched his face, then sighed. He pointed a finger warningly. “Not a _word_ , Guerin.”

It pained Michael how much Gregory sounded like his brother, how much he reminded Michael of Alex, and, desperate to see the airman now more than ever, he nodded and quietly followed Gregory into the house.

“Alex?” Gregory called as Michael closed the door behind them.

“Uh – here,” Alex called back, and they found him sitting in front of the keyboard in his living room, his hands curled to fists on his lap as he stared at the keys.

“Hey,” Gregory said gently, coming to sit beside him. “You okay?”

“I – what is _he_ doing here?” Alex demanded as he turned and caught sight of Michael. He stood quickly, the piano bench keeping him from moving further away, but Gregory had already stood beside him, his hand on his shoulder.

“Whoa, calm down, brother, he’s just here to check on you.”

“Well, are,” Alex started, glancing between Michael and Gregory, “are we friends or something?”

Michael nodded silently, pressing his lips together. He hated this; seeing Alex stand so far away from him, missing him so badly and not being able to touch him, the _apprehension_ in his eyes. Michael knew it wouldn’t have helped, but all he wanted was to take Alex in his arms and never let him go again.

“Alex,” Gregory said, “Michael was the one who tried to save you in the cave. He cares about you.”

Alex’s shoulders slumped. “And you were at the hospital. You looked so relieved when I woke up. I’m sorry, I – I freaked out, and—”

“Don’t be sorry,” Michael said, despite the warning look from Gregory. “I always hold on a little too tightly to you. I can’t help it.”

Gregory pinched the bridge of his nose, but a faint pink blush touched Alex’s cheeks, so Michael was struggling to regret any of his decisions.

“Right,” Alex said tentatively, then scooted out from behind the bench and sat down on the armchair beside it, leaving no room for anyone to sit beside him. Michael took a seat at the edge of the couch, closest to him.

Alex scrunched his shoulders, hugging himself as he gestured at the piano with his chin. “Do I know how to play that?”

“Yes,” both Gregory and Michael said at the same time, amused.

“Very well, I might add,” Gregory said. “If Open Mic Night at the Wild Pony was any indication.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Alex confessed.

“The local bar,” Michael explained, and saw the briefest expression flicker on Alex’s face before it was gone. He changed the topic quickly. “You know how to play the guitar, too. You’re pretty much the smartest guy I know.”

Alex gave him a half-smile without meeting his eyes. “I don’t really feel like the smartest guy right now.”

“Hey,” Gregory said. “This is temporary. You’ll remember everything soon enough. Until then, try to enjoy it.”

Alex scoffed. “Ignorant bliss?”

“Ignorant bliss,” Gregory nodded.

Michael thought that nothing could’ve possibly been worse than Alex enjoying the time that he couldn’t remember him.

Alex’s brows furrowed slightly. “Was my life really that bad?” he joked, though his voice was quiet. “Before?”

Gregory sighed. “It was getting better. The Manes family is . . . kind of cursed.” Alex laughed, and even Michael couldn’t help a begrudging smile. “But after dad died – hell, even _before_ he died, your life was changing, Alex. You’ve always been the strongest of us.” He ruffled Alex’s hair. “You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

Alex exhaled a shaky breath, smiling nervously. “It’s – it’s a lot.”

Michael looked to Gregory, silently asking for permission, and when Gregory nodded, Michael reached out slowly to touch Alex’s hand. Alex reacted no differently than he would’ve to anyone else’s touch.

“I’m going to help you,” Michael said.

“We all are,” Gregory added.

“That’s nice of you,” Alex said, and covered Michael’s hand with his own. He didn’t hold Michael’s gaze or smile softly at him or blush again, as he normally did. It was as if Michael was a complete stranger. “We must’ve been really close.”

“Yeah,” Michael said, surprised at the lump in his throat. “You could say that.”

And so the time passed, with the three of them seated together in the wide living room, going over some of Alex’s memories as a child. Alex’s eyes were distant, his expression polite, his brows furrowed at times when Gregory tried to evade the topic of their father and why Alex acted and dressed certain ways as a teenager. Michael smiled, and pretended that every time Alex casually touched his shoulder or reached for Michael only to quickly realize what he’d done and pull away with an apology, that it didn’t stab at his heart a little bit.

When night came, Alex began to doze off, and Gregory told him where everything was so that he could prepare for bed. An hour later, Gregory came back into the living room, his brows furrowed, his lips pursed.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asked, standing, but Gregory was already shaking his head.

“He’s just asleep.”

“That’s . . . a good thing, isn’t it?”

He shrugged, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He looked to be deep in thought. “Alex never sleeps. PTSD usually keeps him up. I thought you’d know that.”

But Michael, who had been processing that answer, realized too late that he was being spoken to. “Huh?” he asked distractedly. “How would I?”

Gregory blinked and looked away. “My bad. I just thought you guys had . . . you know . . .”

“We have,” Michael said almost defensively. It was ridiculous to want to assure Alex’s _brother_ that he and Alex had had sex, but the idea of Gregory thinking that Alex had only slept with Forrest was bothering him beyond reason.

“And you’ve _seen_ him sleep?”

Michael opened his mouth to answer, and shut it again. Now that he thought about it; _had_ he ever seen Alex sleep? Every time he’d woken after one of their nights, Alex had almost always been out of bed, or he was awake, watching Michael instead.

“Well, good thing,” Gregory said airily, clearly regretting having brought up the topic at all. “I should make a call to the school,” he muttered, more so to himself. “Tell them I won’t be able to come in next week.”

“You’re staying in Roswell?”

“Alex needs me,” Gregory said casually, as if he needed no other reason to leave work and his home and stay in the town he hated as much as Alex did. “But you should go home, get some rest.”

“I don’t need rest,” Michael said.

“Haven’t you been up for a while?”

He shrugged. “I’m not tired.”

Gregory’s shoulders slumped. “Guerin, he’s asleep, I’m here, he’s _fine_.”

“Well, what if he wakes up later?” Michael asked. “What if he needs something?”

“He doesn’t remember who we are,” Gregory said patiently. “He’s not a _kid_. And I’m here to watch over him.”

Michael sighed. “I just think I should—”

“You may not get sick,” Gregory cut him off, “but you’re not immune to exhaustion. You need to go home.”

Michael looked desperately between Gregory and the hallway through which Alex had left earlier to go to bed. He relented eventually, forcing himself into his truck with the promise from Gregory that if anything – _anything_ at all – were to happen to Alex, Michael would be the first to be notified.

He reached his airstream and couldn’t imagine himself falling asleep, but as soon as he fell on his bed and closed his eyes, the darkness engulfed him. Michael woke almost instantly, in a cold sweat.

“Alex,” he breathed, thinking of the airman in his nightmares, the one that had smiled kindly to him, had walked into Michael’s embrace, had allowed Michael to kiss him until neither of them could breathe – and the one that had shot Michael’s heart and killed him.

He hastily looked out the window and saw the gold light pouring through the blinds. He muttered a curse and quickly scrambled out of bed, washed up, changed his shirt, and got into his truck.

“What’re you doin’, boy?” Sanders called, and Michael’s hand on the gearshift stilled.

“I gotta go, Sanders!”

“What for? We’ve got _work_!”

“I need to go see a friend—”

“Yeah, yeah, a _friend_ ,” Sanders grumbled. Then, louder, “Max and Isobel called, told me all about your friend! He came by here earlier.”

“ _What_?” Michael frowned, turning the engine off to hear him better. “Did you say Alex came here?”

“I’m old, boy, don’t make me repeat myself,” Sanders huffed. “Yeah, he came by with his brother and that doctor girl.”

“Why the hell didn’t you wake me?”

“Fix your tone when you talk to me!” he scolded. “And I _tried_ to wake you, but when Manes heard you were sleeping, he said to leave you. Said he didn’t want to bother you. Never thought I’d like a Manes man, but those two sure are somethin’ else, aren’t they?”

“ _Sanders_ ,” Michael grit out. “Focus. How long ago did they leave?”

“Eh?” Sanders squinted with his one good eye. “Oh, about an hour ago.”

“Did they say where they were going?”

“What’d you think, I got time to stand around and ask them about their personal lives? They came by to get a look at the junkyard, jog the poor kid’s memory, then they left.”

“ _And_?” Michael pressed. “Did Alex remember anything?”

“Hell if I know,” Sanders muttered. “I went back to work, like _you_ should be doing – _hey_ , where are you going?!” he called as Michael turned the car back on and rapidly drove backwards and out of the junkyard.

Michael returned to Alex’s house, but saw that Gregory’s car was gone. He knocked on the door, called for Alex, but no one responded. His heart hammering, he drove to the Crashdown Café next, and to his relief, found Alex laughing in a booth beside Gregory, a milkshake and fries in front of him. Across from him sat Liz and Isobel.

“And then,” Liz tried to say through her laughter, “this big guy, _covered_ in tattoos and piercings, just kept petting your head, looked me straight in the eye, and said, ‘Honey, I think your little brother needs to go home.’”

“No!” Alex exclaimed, laughing. “No, no, _no_ , you are making that up! _I_ wore nail polish and eyeliner in high school?”

“You did,” Isobel nodded. “We weren’t friends then, but you pulled it off, I promise.”

“That’s reassuring,” Alex said, then turned as his eyes caught Michael’s. “Hey, uh . . .” his brows furrowed in concentration.

Michael’s heart sank, but he forced his lips into an amused smirk. “Michael. Guerin.”

“Michael,” Alex nodded, and Michael tried to pretend it wasn’t weird to hear Alex say his first name so casually and with such a carefree smile. “We went to the junkyard! You were asleep.”

“Yeah, I know,” Michael said, immensely relieved when Liz relinquished her seat to get back to her shift. He took her place, and Alex’s folded hands on the table didn’t move back. “Did you remember anything?”

Alex hummed. “I think so,” he said, and refused to say anything else. “What about our parents?” he asked with the air of someone eager to change the subject. “Can’t they help me?”

“Uh,” Gregory hesitated, glancing at Michael and Isobel, as if this was the last place he had ever wanted to talk about their family history. “Mom’s out of town, I thought it’d be better if she didn’t know what happened. She can’t really come back yet, so—”

“It would just make her worry,” Alex finished. “Better not, then. I’m sure my memories will come back soon.” He smiled. “And dad?”

Gregory said nothing a moment, then, “He’s dead.”

Alex’s smile dimmed slightly. “Oh,” he said quietly. “Did I know him?”

When Gregory and Isobel didn’t answer, Michael said, “His memories won’t come back if you keep them from him.”

Alex looked to his brother, who was shooting daggers at Michael with his eyes, a frown at his lips. “I take it . . . we’re not close?”

Gregory merely shook his head, his lips pursed. “Dad lived a certain way, with certain beliefs, and he wanted us to follow along with everything he said. You didn’t.”

Alex looked down at his hands on the table. He didn’t look bitter or angry or any of the emotions Michael had come to associate with Alex when his father was mentioned. Just curious.

“Hence, the nail polish and eyeliner,” Alex muttered, and smiled at everyone’s surprised looks. “Please, I was so clearly rebelling against _someone_.”

“The trials of being a _Manes Man_ ,” Michael said with a smirk, and Alex’s expression faltered.

“Manes . . . man,” he said quietly, his brows furrowed. He repeated those two words, his eyes slowly drifting out of focus.

Gregory frowned. “Alex? Are you okay?”

Alex shut his eyes, reaching up to touch his head. “There are . . . no Manes men left.”

Michael froze. _There are no Manes men left._ Jesse’s last words after Gregory had shot him. After Jesse himself had beaten Alex and almost unwittingly killed his entire bloodline.

“Alex,” Michael leaned forward. He had been there with Alex that night, words had been said, Michael had refused to leave Alex behind. “Do you remember something?”

“Uh,” Alex put his head in his hands. “Um . . . dad . . . was . . . _ah_!” he winced, pressing the bottoms of his palms against his temples, his expression pained.

“Alex, hey, it’s okay,” Gregory said quickly.

“Yeah, don’t force yourself,” Isobel tried.

“A toolshed,” Alex winced. “And a hammer. And blood, there was so much blood, how could he do that?!”

“He’s panicking,” Gregory said, looking around desperately, as if forgetting that they were in a diner instead of the hospital. “We need to sedate him.”

“Isobel,” Michael said quickly. “Get into his head.”

“ _What_? I can’t do that!”

“He was screaming!” Alex cried, pressing harder against his temples. The few people there were starting to look around, Arturo and Liz looked over with concern from the counter. “I couldn’t save him!”

“Guerin’s right,” Gregory said urgently, pulling Alex in against his chest. “Isobel, you have to. _Please_!”

With a nervous look at Michael, Isobel reached out and took Alex’s hand. Despite the fear in her eyes, when she spoke, her voice was steady and soothing.

“Alex,” she said softly. “You’re calm, you’re not afraid. The bad memories can’t hurt you here.”

A tear fell down Alex’s cheek, but as Isobel held his gaze, his eyes seemed to come back into focus. “He was attacked . . . because of me.”

“Not because of you,” Isobel said before Michael could manage it, which he was grateful for. He didn’t think he could _breathe_ as he watched Alex, let alone speak. “Alex, you’re exhausted. You need to rest.”

“Rest,” Alex repeated in a whisper. Slowly, he began to nod. “I need to rest.”

Isobel assured him that he was right, as if it wasn’t her own command that he was following. Alex nodded off against Gregory’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering halfway shut. When it was clear he wouldn’t freak out again, Isobel slowly released his hand.

“You okay?” Gregory asked quietly.

Alex said nothing, staring off into the distance, and had his eyes not been open, Michael would’ve thought Isobel had put him to sleep.

“What’d you do to him?” Michael asked her.

She shook her head, her jaw clenched as she swallowed. “His mind’s like a freaking _minefield_. I can’t go back in there. There are so many traumatic memories, it’s like his brain is on overdrive trying to sort through everything.”

Isobel scoffed, though her eyes had turned glassy and her voice cracked. If Michael had not known his sister so well, he might’ve missed it, but he did, so he couldn’t.

“He’s always so put together,” she muttered, her eyes on the airman. “Always taking care of everything. I had no idea. . . . I never thought I’d say this, but . . . poor Alex.”

“No,” Michael said right away. He knew Alex, whatever this version of him remembered, and he _knew_ his airman would’ve wanted nothing less than to be pitied. As far as Michael was concerned, Alex was the strongest person he knew. Hearing about him spoken as anything otherwise was insulting.

“He’s fine,” Michael said, even as Alex’s eyes closed for several seconds before they opened again. “He’ll be fine.”

“You promised me you wouldn’t say anything,” Gregory said sternly. “Guerin, you almost reminded him of dad.”

“That _toolshed_ had followed the both of us around for a decade,” Michael defended. “Believe me, if he didn’t remember now, he would’ve remembered later.”

“Still,” Isobel cut in as it became obvious that Gregory was willing to argue. “We have to be more careful. Remembering clearly hurts him.”

“So, what?” Michael asked. “Keep the memories away forever? Only let him remember the good stuff? How long do you think that’ll last? What about when Greg needs to go back to work on the reservation?”

“I’m thinking of taking Alex with me,” Gregory muttered absentmindedly into Alex’s hair. “I think it’ll do him some good. Getting out of Roswell, being in the place where our mom grew up.”

“If nothing else,” Isobel added comfortingly, “it’ll be away from his worst memories.”

“No, no way,” Michael said, his hand reaching for Alex, then he realized the airman had probably forgotten any of them were there, locked in his own haze, and his fingers curled to a fist on the table. “He’s not leaving town.”

“Are you not listening to me?” Gregory said. “It’s _better_ for him. And that’s what we have to think of now, Guerin; the best thing for _Alex_.”

“The best thing for him is _here_ ,” Michael said desperately. “With _me_. Look, no one is going to take better care of Alex than me—”

“And you think you guys will just go back to dating or whatever you were doing before? You’re a total stranger to him, he’s not going to be comfortable around you!”

“You’re a stranger, too!”

“But his worst memories aren’t tied up with _me_ ,” Gregory said, and immediately looked apologetic at having said it. After a moment of utter silence at the table, the rest of the diner turned to background noise, Gregory quietly said, “I’m sorry, Guerin, I am. I know how much this must hurt you—”

“No, you don’t,” Michael grit out, his fists so tight that he felt his nails digging crescents into his palms.

“ _But_ ,” Gregory continued as if Michael hadn’t spoken, “Alex remembers more about me than he does you. You guys haven’t spoken in _months_. You dated one of his best friends for, like, a _year_ , didn’t you?”

“That wasn’t—”

“I don’t care,” Gregory cut him off. “I don’t know you, Guerin, you can do whatever you want, but I know Alex, and I know the last thing he needs is one more reason to give up. So, please, just give him some time. Okay?”

Michael clenched his jaw, but leaned back in his seat, pursing his lips. His eyes fell on Alex who he saw was watching him back, his brows furrowed slightly, and whether that was because of the painful migraine, or because of something else, Michael didn’t know.

When Isobel went to the bathroom, Alex slowly reached across the table, and Michael, hesitant, reached the rest of the way. Alex squeezed his fingers weakly as if to say, _I’m sorry I can’t be with you anymore._

Michael felt that lump in his throat return and threaten to suffocate him. He let Alex’s hand go when he had to step out for Isobel and wouldn’t dare take it again.

So for a week, Michael stayed away from Alex, watching only from afar as Alex spent time at the diner, talked to friends, visited the museum. Michael had expected him to regain some important memories in the UFO emporium, but when he came out, he had worn an unreadable expression for a moment, then shook it off with a smile and resumed his day with the others.

Most of the time, he sat with Liz who seemed determined never to leave his side aside from shifts. Michael assumed it was because she blamed herself for what had happened to Alex. He thought it was ridiculous, as he was sure Alex would’ve, but having someone constantly at Alex’s side, even when Gregory had to return to the reservation that following Sunday night to prepare a room for Alex, made Michael feel better.

The next day, Forrest had come back, and Michael saw – from behind his own truck’s windshield – that the historian was not thrown off by Alex’s accident, but happy to help him in any way he could. Michael’s hands clenched on the steering wheel, and he watched as Forrest held his arms out for Alex, the way Alex easily stepped into them and wrapped his own arms around Forrest’s waist, the way Forrest made them sway on their feet as they hugged tightly.

Forrest and Alex then spent the rest of the day in the diner with Forrest talking animatedly, waving his hands around, undoubtedly telling Alex about all of their interactions since the day they met. Michael wondered if Forrest might lie about some of the details, then realized that was insanely stupid and that he needed to calm down.

Still, Michael pushed himself out of his car, unable to help but make his way into the Crashdown with every brush of Forrest’s fingers against Alex’s jaw or hair or hands.

When he came in, he expected Alex’s eyes to jump to him as they always did when a stranger entered the building, but this Alex didn’t have his memories or trauma from war. _This_ Alex didn’t fear strangers or jump at sudden sounds of the bell above the door jingling or keep his eyes on all the entrances and exits to a place before he sat down.

Michael went to the counter, glancing at Alex every so often, until he felt someone hit his shoulder.

“What’re you doing here?” Liz said, her all-knowing eyes boring into his.

Michael held up his hands in mock surrender, plastering a smirk that felt forced with the sound of Alex’s laugh in the background. “I’m just hungry. Can I get a burger, please?”

Liz looked between Michael and the Alex who still hadn’t noticed that the cowboy was even there, and sighed. “Sure,” she said. “But just—” she huffed. “Don’t go near him. I’m _serious_ , Michael,” she said when Michael laughed. “Gregory put me in charge of taking care of him, and he said, _‘Don’t let Guerin near him, whatever it takes.’_ So, please—”

“I won’t go near him,” Michael said with a slight edge to his voice. He was getting really sick of being treated like some infectious disease that would kill Alex if he touched him. Didn’t they know that _no one_ cared more about Alex than he did?

But Liz wasn’t Alex, _no one_ was, and so no one could read Michael’s thoughts or sense his concerns or anger the way Alex always managed to.

And so with a sad upward tilt her lips, Liz went to the back to get his order. Almost right away, Michael felt someone touch his arm.

“Hey,” Alex said, smiling cheerfully, his hands folded playfully behind his back. He looked so carefree, so full of laughter, that Michael almost didn’t recognize him.

“Uh – hi,” he said, and glanced to the back where Liz was too busy talking to one of the cooks to notice them together. He should’ve ignored Alex, should’ve made some excuse to leave, but the airman smelled like wood and maple syrup, and Michael hadn’t been close to him in almost two weeks, and technically speaking, he wasn’t breaking any rules because he wasn’t the one going near Alex, it was the other way around.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I was – uh – busy,” he said, then, as an afterthought, added, “Sorry.”

Alex shook his head. “I know my brother told you to stay away from me.”

Michael raised a brow. “If you know that, then why’d you come over here?”

Alex’s smile faltered. “Because I saw you the second you came in. I always see you when you come in, even when I don’t know who you are. I want to know why.”

Michael glanced at Forrest only to find that the historian had left. Alex followed his gaze and shrugged. “So? Will you help me?”

Michael looked down, huffing a chuckle. He scratched his cheek and said, “You know, if you were Alex, _my_ Alex, you’d know that you never had to ask me for anything. I pretty much do whatever you tell me to.”

Alex narrowed his eyes as he searched Michael’s face. “No,” he said, slightly amused. “You don’t. I remember that much. I remember you saying _no_ , but I can’t remember what for.” He laughed when Michael looked surprised. “ _See_? I always remember more when it comes to you. So I’m going to ask you again. Will you help me, Michael?”

Michael hesitated, looked again to where Liz had been, and saw that she had spotted them. She was trying to excuse herself quickly from the conversation with the cook, but Michael had already taken Alex’s wrist and was leading him towards the door. The airman looked startled, but followed along. Michael was glad to see his motor skills had come back to him.

“First of all,” Michael said as he burst through the door, pulling Alex along behind him, “you don’t call me Michael. Not really. You always call me by my last name.”

“Why do I do that?” Alex asked, and Michael shrugged.

“You always have. It’s our thing.”

“Our thing – _ow_ , slow down!” Alex said, and Michael turned and caught him just as he stumbled against his chest.

They stood there a moment, beside Michael’s truck, lost in each other. Alex was panting, his hands curled to fists against Michael’s chest, his lips all but pressed to Michael’s collarbone.

“Where are we going?” Alex asked quietly.

“To get your memories back,” Michael said into his hair, his eyes almost fluttering at the touch. It had been _too_ long since he’d held Alex. “Come on. Get in.”

Alex obediently did as he was told, sliding into the passenger’s seat just as Liz came out of the diner, looking panicked.

“I don’t get it,” Alex shook his head, watching Liz with furrowed brows as Michael sped off. “If you were evil, they would’ve told me. But they obviously like you. So why doesn’t anyone want us together?”

“Because we hurt each other,” Michael said as he drove off and down the road. “We always have. We’re kind of cursed.”

Alex laughed. “Oh us, too, huh? I don’t think so.”

“Well,” Michael smirked, unable to help it, “you wouldn’t remember anyway, so.”

Alex whistled quietly, but when he spoke, he was smiling. “Low blow.”

Michael laughed himself, and when he looked over at Alex, he saw him leaning back comfortably in his seat, sighing contentedly. His own smile faltered at the sight. “You’re so much . . . happier now.”

“And I wasn’t happy before?”

Michael considered this. “Not that I can remember, actually,” he said. “I think the only time I ever saw you laugh was . . . in the toolshed. That didn’t have a happy ending, though.”

“That toolshed,” Alex sighed. “A lot’s happened there. Gregory showed it to me, you know. He said you and I destroyed it.”

“We did,” Michael said, waiting with bated breath for Alex’s reaction.

But Alex only hummed, and slumped down in his seat, pulling his left knee up against the dashboard. Michael didn’t know why he was expecting him to care; this Alex knew nothing of their history, and even if he did, it wasn’t as if he had the same feelings and emotions connected to everything.

“You know,” Michael said before he could help it, “the old you had years to deal with this stuff. To accept the kind of man your father was. The kind of men your _brothers_ were. You don’t have that kind of time.”

Alex raised a brow. “You think I’ll explode if I learn too much? Because I’ve already had this conversation.”

“You won’t explode,” Michael said. “You’ll be fine. But the last time, I pushed you away because of all of that. And you handled it fine. In fact, some might say you were better off without me.”

He said so with a smile, but Alex turned his head against his seat, searching Michael’s face with his dark eyes. He reached over and took Michael’s hand in his own.

Michael cleared his throat, but he held on to Alex’s hand. “It was like one thing at a time. Now it’s all going to hit you at once.”

“You’re worried about me,” Alex noted.

Michael shook his head, feeling a smile tug at his lips despite himself. “ _Stop_ looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he laughed.

“Like . . . like . . .” _Like you love me._ It made the reality all the more painful, and even worse when Michael knew that the second Alex remembered who he was, he would put distance between them again.

“Where are we going anyway?” Alex asked, clearly sensing Michael’s desire to change the subject. It was a comfort to know he could still do that; still read Michael to some extent.

Michael shrugged. “I don’t know, actually.”

“Just thought you’d kidnap me and drive us around till the gas runs out?” Alex asked, smiling.

“They weren’t leaving me any other choice,” Michael said.

“It’s nice,” Alex said. “So many of them care about me. I don’t understand what they’re scared of me remembering.”

Michael’s grin faltered. “Maybe it’s not always like this.”

Alex raised a brow. “People don’t always care about me?”

“Not as much as they should,” Michael said before he could help himself. Then, he looked over to Alex and saw a small smile at his lips. “You’re not mad?”

Alex shrugged slightly, helplessly. “I don’t really know anyone. And I think it would be worse if I knew anything about my life, but everyone just feels like a stranger. I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft.

Michael realized then that his jaw had been visibly clenched, his brows furrowed. He cooled his features, plastering a smile on his lips. He automatically brought Alex’s hand up to his fingers and kissed them.

“Don’t be sorry,” Michael mumbled against his fingers. “I’m right here. And we’ll fix it, Alex. I promise.”

Alex didn’t pull away or seem the least bit bothered by Michael’s hands on him now. “Fix _me_ , you mean.”

“No, not you,” Michael said. “Never you.”

Alex turned his hand in Michael’s hold and held onto his fingers. “Something about you, Guerin. I can’t put my finger on it.”

Michael’s heart jumped in his chest. “I think I know where to take you.”

“Liz is pissed at you, you know,” Maria said the second Michael and Alex had gone through the doors of the Wild Pony. She had her hands on her hips, but the anger in her voice was undermined by the concern in her eyes as they fell on Alex.

She reached out for the airman who, startled, stepped back from her. Maria halted in her tracks, hurt crossing her expression only barely before it disappeared and she smiled kindly. “Sorry, uh, force of habit.”

“Oh,” Alex nodded, then, “How many friends do I _have_?”

“A lot,” Maria said, clearly choking but making an effort to smile.

Alex raised a brow. “You’re not gonna cry, are you? A lot of people have already cried.”

“No,” Maria said with a huff, shaking her shoulders out. “I’m not going to cry. _God_ , this is weird.”

“No kidding,” Alex muttered, looking around the bar as if hoping for his memories to reveal themselves in the walls.

“Michael, Liz has been calling all of us to know if we’ve seen you,” Maria said, throwing glances at Alex every so often. “What am I supposed to tell her?” she demanded.

“That you have no idea where we are!” Michael smirked. “Alex needs me if he’s going to remember everything.”

“But Gregory said—”

“Gregory is handling his brother with safety gloves,” Michael said. “Alex needs someone who isn’t afraid of breaking him. He remembers more around me anyway, don’t you, Alex?”

But it was as if Alex couldn’t hear him, his attention on something behind them as he hummed. Michael’s eyes narrowed. _That song. . . ._

“What’re you singing?” he asked quickly, and Alex, surprised at Michael’s reaction, blinked.

“What’re you talking about?”

“That song you were humming just now.”

“Oh,” Alex said as if he didn’t realize he’d been humming at all. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just some song.”

But it wasn’t just _some song_ , Michael thought. It was _the_ song. The song Alex had written and composed himself, the song he’d gotten up in front of an entire bar of cowboys to sing, the song he wrote about himself and Michael and everything they were.

Alex, however, didn’t seem to find any significance in it other than a tune stuck in his head.

“Hey, what’s that?” he asked, pointing at one of the instruments in the back.

Maria came to stand beside him, her arms crossed, but her eyes going to Alex’s face so often that she may as well have been staring at _him_. Despite her smile, Michael didn’t think he’d ever seen her look so sad.

“The keyboard we use for Open Mic nights. You remember it?”

Alex brows furrowed. “I think so. Gregory told me I played piano. Maybe that’s why?”

“You performed once,” Maria said wistfully. “It was amazing. I think. I wasn’t here to enjoy it. But everyone else told me it was amazing.”

And by _everyone else_ , Michael knew she meant Isobel. His sister had been talking about Alex’s voice since that night.

“That can’t be true,” Alex laughed, and Maria’s smile turned more genuine despite her eyes filling with tears. “I can’t tell if everyone’s telling me the truth about this stuff, or if . . .” he trailed off at the sight of Maria.

Alex sighed, smiling softly. “I knew you’d cry.”

“I’m not crying,” Maria sobbed as she wrapped her arms around Alex’s shoulders. He patted her back consolingly, but Michael could tell he was at a loss for what else to do.

They left soon after with a promise from Maria that she would give them a five-minute head start before calling Liz.

Alex was silent as they drove on, knee up on the console as he hugged himself.

“Alex?” Michael asked, but it was as if Alex couldn’t hear him. “Hey,” he asked again, reaching out to touch Alex’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Alex shook his head and covered his face. “I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice muffled. “I’m okay.” He pressed his hands against his temples again, his face red as he strained to contain what Michael assumed was the same throbbing migraine that had haunted him at the Crashdown over a week ago.

“Do you remember something?”

“I – I don’t know,” Alex said miserably.

“It’s okay,” Michael said. “Don’t force it.”

Alex shook his head, his smile pained. “I feel like I’m letting everyone down. A whole town of strangers expecting me to know what they want me to know, and I just _don’t_.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Guerin,” Alex said. A breath, two, then, “We were really in love, weren’t we?”

Michael faltered and nearly hit the truck in front of him. It honked loudly as he passed it, but Alex looked unruffled, his eyes steady on Michael. “You remember?”

“Bits and pieces,” Alex said. “Always of you. Always bad. I’ve either been angry with you or you’ve been angry with me, or I’ve cried because of you or you’ve cried because of me. One of us is always walking away.”

Michael clenched his jaw, and pulled over to the side of the wide empty road, parking the truck. Neither of them said anything for a moment, nothing but the wind in the sand blowing past, and neither of them in a hurry to get into this conversation.

“Then how did you know?” Michael finally asked. “That we were in love?”

Alex have him half a sad smile. “Because you keep looking at me like I’m breaking your heart.” He shook his head, a tear escaping down his cheek. “I don’t enjoy this. It’s like I can _feel_ there’s a big part of me missing, and I don’t know how to get it back. I know it’s a miserable, and dark, and messed up part, but I would do it for you, Guerin. I would remember if it meant I got to remember you.”

Michael shook his head, unable to look away from Alex. He whispered, “Why?”

“Someone who loves as much as you do,” Alex said, “ _has_ to be worth putting up with the rest of it.”

And while Michael knew he shouldn’t, that it might hurt them both, he closed the distance between them, and took Alex’s lips in his. Alex did not seem startled, kissing back gently as Michael tilted his head and deepened it. His heart was overflowing, he could hardly contain it. It had been too long since he’d touched Alex, his scent and taste the same as ever.

Michael knew they had to be okay if Alex was kissing him back, if everything about him from the way he dressed to his voice was all the same as before. Michael decided that, no matter what it took, they _would_ be okay. They would _have_ to be.

But just as he reached up to cup Alex’s cheek, the airman pulled away with a wince.

Michael panted against his lips, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Alex looked confused at what had just happened as well. “I – I don’t – _ah_!” He pressed his hands roughly against his temples, all but screaming in pain.

“Alex?” Michael pulled back, trying to hold onto Alex’s shoulders, to cover Alex’s hands on his head with his own, but Alex doubled over, screaming. Then his nose began to bleed, and Michael felt panic quickly seep in.

“Hold on, Alex, hold on,” Michael said desperately, undoubtedly breaking every speeding rule as he raced the streets on the way to the hospital. “Hold on, I’m gonna get you help, hold on, baby!”

But if Alex heard him, he didn’t show it. He was trembling in his seat, bleeding all down the bottom half of his face, his shut tight. The second Michael parked the car in front of the building, Alex collapsed against the car door.

Michael felt a sickening sense of déjà vu, sitting here in front of Alex’s bed, watching him lying unconscious, waiting for him to wake up. He hated being here, he hated seeing Alex here, he hated these damn white walls and white sheets. He wanted to take Alex and go somewhere far away, somewhere danger and white hospital rooms couldn’t follow.

But, as Liz had pointed out when Kyle had insisted on calling her after what had happened, Michael taking Alex anywhere alone didn’t always yield the best results.

“What did I say?” Kyle said as soon as he came in, clipboard in hand. “I said don’t stress him out, _Guerin_. Don’t scare him, _Guerin_. Don’t push it, _Guerin_! Does anyone even _listen_ to doctors anymore? No, of course not, because you all just know better, right?”

“Kyle, Michael couldn’t have known this would happen,” Liz tried. She sounded weary, her eyeliner was smudged from when she had been crying. Michael wished Max and Isobel could be here, but they had gone to the reservation with Gregory to see if they could gather any of Alex’s old things, help jog his memory, and weren’t scheduled to be back for another day.

“Actually, Liz, he could have,” Kyle said. “Because I _warned_ you it would.” He checked Alex’s vitals, his scans, and turned to glare at Michael. “You’re _really_ lucky Alex is as strong as he is, or who knows how much worse that reaction could’ve been.”

Michael tried to muster the will to be angry, but he couldn’t. All he cared about was Alex. “Is he going to wake up?”

“I don’t know,” Kyle admitted. “A breakdown like that, in the state he’s in – it could make things worse. _Decades_ worth of trauma all hitting him at once. If he does wake up, you better _hope_ he remembers how to speak.”

Michael’s heart climbed into his throat. He looked up at Kyle, hoping to see him rolling his eyes, to hear him reassure them that he was kidding, that Alex’s memory couldn’t regress _that_ far, but the doctor was only looking at Alex.

Kyle rubbed his face and sighed. “If he doesn’t wake up by tonight, I should call his mom. I’m going to go have a look at his records and pull up her number. I’ll be back later to check on him.”

Michael briefly registered Liz nodding before the door opened and closed, and she pulled up the chair beside him and took a seat.

“You should—”

“If you tell me to go home or get some rest, Liz,” Michael cut her off, his eyes on the airman, “I’m going to scream. It’s my fault he’s here in the first place.”

“No, it’s not,” Liz said slowly. “It’s mine.”

“Liz—”

“We were in that cave because of me,” Liz said. “I was too eager, not careful enough, and Alex did what he always does. He saved me. He would’ve remembered sooner or later.”

“I forced him into it.”

“It was what he wanted, Michael,” she said. “He chose you because he knew you would help him remember faster. Don’t you see that? He just wanted to remember you.”

“A lot of good that did him,” Michael said bitterly. “Even when I’m not in his life, I ruin it.” He reached out and took Alex’s hand in his own. “But I can’t stay away from him. You must think I’m a real dick.”

Liz shrugged a shoulder. “What I think doesn’t matter. Alex loves _you_ , no one else. I can’t shut that off, any more than you can.”

Michael shook his head, his eyes filling with tears. “I can’t lose him.”

“You won’t,” Liz said. “You can’t.”

Michael vaguely registered her standing up an hour later to get them some food. He nodded numbly as she grasped his shoulder and turned to leave.

It wasn’t until two more visits from Kyle and a frantic phone call from Gregory that Michael realized he felt something in his hand move. He looked up from where he’d dozed off, with his head on Alex’s bedside, and saw that it was Alex’s fingers twitching in his, lightly holding onto Michael’s own.

Michael sat up with a gasp, staring intently at Alex, but after half an hour, the airman’s eyes remained shut and his fingers did not move again. Michael’s heart quickly turned back into lead as he stood up, gently releasing Alex’s hand. He stepped into the bathroom, wondering if maybe he’d imagined the whole thing, maybe he’d dreamt it, maybe his long days of not eating enough and his even longer nights of not sleeping enough were getting to him.

He came out of the bathroom and froze. There, struggling to sit up against his pillows, was Alex, wide awake. Michael didn’t dare move, afraid that he would shatter the dream, but Alex’s expression turned startled at the sight of him, and the airman narrowed his eyes as if to make sure Michael was actually there, and Michael knew it was real.

“ _Alex_ ,” he breathed, throwing himself onto Alex, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders.

Alex was stiff in his hold, his hands in his lap. Michael remembered the last time Alex had woken up here, the way Michael had frightened him by getting too close. Michael forced himself to let the airman go, and he stepped back, holding his hands up to calm what he was sure was going to be a terrified Air Force captain.

“Don’t freak out,” Michael said gently. “It’s going to be okay.” Alex’s brows furrowed. Michael swallowed, remembering what Kyle had said about the probability of Alex not remembering how to speak, then said more slowly, “I promise . . . I’m your friend. . . .”

Alex raised a brow, then, rubbing his forehead painfully, he said, “What the hell are you doing, Guerin?”

Michael’s face fell and his heart jumped. “You – you remember me?”

Alex sighed, the sound alone so familiar that Michael thought he could burst into tears right then and there. “ _What_?”

He stepped closer to the bed, not daring to hope, and wishing for it despite his better instincts. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah?” Alex said, though it sounded more like a question. “I’ve only known who you were since we were in high school. Did Kyle ask you to question me? Because I feel – _oh_!”

Alex never got to finish because Michael had closed the distance between them again, wrapping Alex in another tight hug. As he was not caught so off guard this time, Alex settled his chin on Michael’s shoulder and hugged him back.

When they finally broke apart, Alex was rubbing his temples, wincing. “My head is _killing_ me.” His eyes widened. “ _Liz_. Where’s Liz, is she okay? Did she make it out of the cave?”

“The cave?” Michael’s brows furrowed, though he didn’t dare leave Alex’s side again. He planted himself beside him on the bed, and while Alex seemed both surprised and confused, he was giving Michael his full attention once again. “That’s the last thing you remember?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, but he frowned as he looked himself over. “My injuries shouldn’t be healing yet, not unless . . .” he trailed off, realization dawning. “How long have I been asleep?” he asked, not afraid or concerned, only calculating, as if he was drawing up a battleplan on how to deal with the answer when it came. _God_ , Michael missed him.

He shook his head and reached up to cup Alex’s cheek, kissing the other. Once again, the airman seemed at a loss for words.

“Not long,” Michael said honestly. “Not long at all.”


	199. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex confronts Michael about his actions the past year.

Michael hadn’t seen Alex in two weeks.

It used to be a regular thing, about a year ago, to go through periods of time without so much as hearing from the airman, but after they’d started working towards finding out more about Nora and Louise, Michael had gotten used to getting a text or call from Alex at least every other day.

After he and Maria had broken up, he’d expected to have heard a lot more from the airman, but he’d only turned more and more silent until eventually, Michael almost felt like Alex was going out of his way to avoid him. And he hated it.

Maybe that was why, on a Saturday morning, when he _knew_ Alex would be home, Michael found himself driving into Alex’s driveway. Hearing music coming from Alex’s backyard wasn’t unheard of, and Michael stepped out onto the back porch to find Alex curled up in one of the chairs, a guitar in his hands, and sitting across from him, looking casual and comfortable in sweats and a maroon cardigan was Forrest, working on something in his journal.

They were speaking in whispers as Alex plucked away gently, the two smiling as if in secret conversation even from the birds. Michael felt his heart sink into his stomach, but he swallowed back the lump in his throat and raised his hand in greeting for Forrest to see him.

“Oh hey,” the historian said with a kind smile, setting his journal down. Alex looked over his shoulder to see who Forrest was talking to. He saw Michael and gave a small smile, turning back to his guitar.

“What’s up?” Alex asked with his back turned to Michael, his attention more focused on his notes.

At Forrest gesturing to a chair beside them, Michael sat down, trying not to be bitter that Forrest felt enough at home to offer a seat to someone else. How many times had he been here anyway?

“Is everything okay?” Forrest asked. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Michael plastered on a smirk, shrugged and said, “Everything’s fine. I just came to see Alex.”

If Forrest was annoyed or worried about Michael coming all the way to see his boyfriend, he didn’t show it. On the contrary, he nodded, as if understanding that if one was upset or conflicted, the best thing to do was come see Alex.

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone, then,” he said easily, closing his journal and handing it to Alex who took it with an almost shy smile, his cheeks turning red, as if he was being handed a rose. “I have to get to work anyway.”

And he pecked Alex’s lips once, then the crown of his head, then walked off. Michael stared ahead, waiting until he was gone, his kisses to Alex playing on repeat in his head. When he heard Forrest’s car pull out onto the road and drive away, he turned to Alex.

“You guys have gotten close,” he noted. He tried to keep the accusation out of his voice, but being who he was and feeling all he felt made it impossible.

Alex nodded, then smiled softly and said, “I like to think so.”

He opened Forrest’s journal, his eyes scanning the page a moment before his smile widened slightly, his eyes brighter, a deeper blush rising up his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Did he write you something?” Michael asked.

“Sort of,” Alex said vaguely after having finished reading the latest page. He closed the journal, keeping it close by on the table as if afraid of letting it out of his sight, and returned to plucking away idly on the guitar.

“So,” Alex said, “what’s going on? Why’d you come?”

“I told you,” Michael said. “I came to –”

“See me, yeah, I got that part,” Alex said with a sigh. “What for? What do you need?”

Michael raised a brow, trying not to feel hurt. Did Alex think that Michael wouldn’t come unless he needed something? “I just wanted to see you, Alex.”

“Well,” Alex shrugged, barely pressing his lips together in a neutral smile. “Here I am.”

Michael stared. He should’ve kept his mouth shut, should’ve ignored Alex’s indifferent tone, should’ve just sat quietly and taken the chance to stare at the airman while he could. But then –

“Why have you been avoiding me?” he asked, and Alex said nothing. Michael’s brows furrowed. “You’re not going to try to deny it?”

“I haven’t come to see you,” Alex finally said after a moment of mindless plucking. “And I don’t have a reason to go to the Wild Pony anymore. I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“But you don’t want to see me,” Michael insisted, and Alex did not object. Michael turned his whole body towards him, jaw clenched. He tried not to get angry, not to lose his temper. “Why?”

Alex played the guitar a little more, the notes almost deafening in the silence between them. Then, he said, “You know, I’ve been giving a lot of thought lately to why we fell in love in the first place. Or . . . why _I_ fell in love.”

Michael searched Alex’s face, not daring to breathe. He wished Alex would just _look_ at him.

“Even when we were seventeen,” Alex shook his head, “you were impenetrable. You didn’t let anyone but Max and Isobel near you, you were smart, but you were cold and distant. You’ve always been like that, and I,” he chuckled, and Michael thought it was the saddest sound he’d ever heard, “I loved that about you. Because, deep down, you had the purest heart I’d ever seen.”

At this, Alex’s voice turned barely higher than a whisper. “And I thought I was the only one who got to see that.”

“Alex –”

“Please, just,” his brows furrowed, and Michael saw his hand tighten around the neck of his guitar. “Just let me finish.” So Michael closed his mouth and waited.

“With me, you were . . . different. You were so kind, so open and caring. So loving. It’s stupid, but . . . I felt special. Michael Guerin, keeping everyone at arm’s length . . . everyone but me.” He sighed, giving Michael a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But I was wrong.”

“You –” Michael shook his head, scooting forward so that his knee touched Alex’s thigh. “You _weren’t_ wrong! Alex, you’re . . . you’re –”

“You told Maria you love her,” Alex whispered, yet his voice, the misery of those few words, echoed. “You’ve never even said those words to _me_. When you guys broke up, I thought . . . I thought it was because . . .” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I was wrong then, too. I keep getting it wrong.”

Michael’s eyes burned. “Alex,” he said, “when I told her that, I – I didn’t mean –”

“I don’t _care_ , Guerin,” Alex said with a sad laugh, his eyes glassy, his voice trembling. “I don’t care why or – or how. _You’ve never said those words to me._ ” He huffed, wiping furiously at his face once with his hand. “And – and I know it’s unfair and illogical and childish to be upset about this, to not be able to stand the sight of either of you anymore no matter how hard I’ve tried, and I _have tried_ , but I,” he shrugged, “I don’t care. I can’t help it. Seeing you . . . makes me _so_ miserable. And sad, and _angry_ , and just – just _thinking_ about the way you _cared_ for her this past year, in a way you _never_ cared for me. And she gets to be your girlfriend, and I get to be your super computer, and how long did you think that was going to be okay?”

Another helpless laugh. “I tried to fool myself into thinking that you and I were in love, and everything was eventually going to be fine, and at some point you would see that, and we’d be together –”

“But I _do_ see that,” Michael tried desperately. “It’s you and me, it’s _always_ been you and me, I _believe_ that now!”

“But I don’t,” Alex said quietly, and Michael turned to stone. “I don’t anymore. I need time, Guerin.”

“Time away from me,” Michael dared him to answer, his voice rough.

Alex nodded numbly, turning back to his guitar but not playing a thing. “Time away from you. Please leave, Guerin.”

“Alex –”

“Just go,” Alex said with a sigh, and returned to plucking away, Michael thoroughly dismissed.

Michael slowly stood after it was obvious Alex would not listen to anything he had to say. And what _could_ he say that would fix how Alex felt? Betrayed, abandoned, _replaced_. How would Michael possibly help any of that?

As he turned to leave, he saw Alex gently pulling Forrest’s journal closer, as if taking comfort in playing for it. Alex’s smile slowly returned, but with a pang in his heart, Michael realized that it wasn’t for him.


	200. Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forrest knows what Alex's nightmares are like.

The first time it happened, Forrest was in the kitchen. He had been preparing an early breakfast when he heard Alex scream, “NO!” and he ran into the bedroom to find the airman sitting up in bed, gasping.

“Hey, hey,” he sat down quickly beside him, wrapping him in his arms. Alex flinched at first at the contact, but quickly melted against Forrest’s chest, hugging his waist tightly.

“I’m fine,” Alex muttered even as he clung to Forrest. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh, don’t be sorry,” Forrest said into his hair. Alex had refused to fall back to sleep, and so the both of them sat down for pancakes, the sudden wake-up call forgotten.

The second time, Forrest was not there at all. He came at noon to visit Alex and the airman smiled and hugged him and nuzzled his neck and Forrest breathed him in. Then he pulled back and saw Alex’s red-rimmed eyes, the dark circles, the way his hands trembled slightly due to the exhaustion. And he knew his airman hadn’t gotten any sleep that night.

Still, Forrest didn’t ask, didn’t pry, just moved on with the day as Alex so clearly wanted to do himself. Forrest remembered thinking this airman was going to be a beautiful handful.

“Why are you laughing?” Alex asked in that moment.

“It’s nothing, baby,” Forrest said and pressed a kiss to Alex’s temple.

The third time, Forrest had been in bed with him. Having spent his own time in the military, Forrest was used to waking up at early hours of the morning, but he liked to stay up as late as possible, which sometimes meant that Alex would fall asleep hours before he did, and Forrest could alternate between reading his book and watching Alex’s sleeping face, the way his cheeks turned red against the warmth of the pillow and duvet, the way he breathed softly and his body curled slightly. The way he seemed, as he so often did not, finally at peace.

Until he didn’t.

At one point, Forrest glanced over as he heard a quiet whimper. Alex’s brows were furrowed and he was slightly shaking his head against the pillow.

Forrest set his book down. “Alex?” he asked softly. “Can you hear me?”

But Alex evidently could not. He whimpered again, turning over onto his back, then his side again.

Forrest reached down and just traced his finger from Alex’s forehead down to the tip of his nose. He did this repeatedly until Alex’s expression gradually turned rested, and Alex sighed deeply as he reached an arm over Forrest’s hips and hugged him in his sleep. Forrest smiled and quietly returned to finishing his chapter, one hand on his book, the other on Alex’s arm.

The fourth time, Forrest was getting ready for bed when it happened. He was slipping on his shirt and Alex, who had been sleeping on his back, whimpered once in his sleep and sat up with a gasp, eyes wide, trembling.

“Whoa, Alex, hey, it’s okay,” Forrest said as he sat at Alex’s bedside and tried to keep Alex still. Once his hands touched Alex’s shoulders, Alex flinched and tried to fight him off, still in a haze, but Forrest held on, and pulled him in for a hug.

“I know, I know, I know, it’s okay, I know,” Forrest kept repeating into his hair, holding him tighter with every passing second. Because he did know. He knew what it was like to leave that life but never really _leave_ that life. To close your eyes and see fire and blood, to see yourself in trenches, your brothers dying in your arms, then wake up and think that this world, this world of peace and quiet and comfort, _that_ was the real dream.

Forrest had seen others not know how to act around Alex at times, not notice him slipping off into memory ten times a day, not notice the way he flinches at loud sounds or people sneaking up behind him. But Forrest noticed, because he _knew_.

Slowly, Forrest led Alex back down into bed, his arms still tight around him.

“I don’t want to sleep,” Alex whispered a long moment later as Forrest’s eyes began to flutter shut.

“You have to,” he mumbled into Alex’s hair. “It’s past midnight and you’re exhausted.”

“’M not.”

The corners of Forrest’s lips quirked up. “Are too.”

“Maybe you should go sleep in your own bed,” Alex suggested after a pause.

Forrest shrugged, holding Alex closer. “Don’t wanna.”

“But you won’t get to sleep otherwise.”

“But you’re a lot warmer than my bed.””

“That can’t possibly be true.”

“You smell better, too,” Forrest said, inhaling his scent and sighing deeply against his hair. “ _God_ , you smell good.”

Alex huffed a tired laugh against his chest. “Stop making me laugh.”

“No, I like your laugh.”

“Why are you like this? You’re a Long, you’re not supposed to be this charming.”

Forrest smiled. “Said the Manes.”

Alex paused, then when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“It’s always so loud –”

“Shh,” Forrest ran a hand up and down Alex’s back. “I know. I know.”

“You do, don’t you?” he whispered and Forrest kissed his forehead.

“Go to sleep, Cap,” Forrest whispered back. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”


	201. Malex & Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael thinks Alex and Forrest aren't forever.

The universe was mocking Michael, he was sure of it.

When he had come into the Crashdown that morning for breakfast, he couldn’t have imagined that he would run into the one couple he was actively trying to avoid. Why was it so unfathomable, one may ask? Well, the truth of it was that Michael had taken special care to memorize Alex’s schedule long ago. The airman ran a tight ship (or plane or whatever the hell he was trained in), so his comings and goings were fairly predictable.

 _Why_ did he memorize it? Simple. It was during a time (and by that, Michael meant a few months ago) when he was trying to catch Alex during the day. A single glimpse of him would’ve been enough to satisfy Michael, and give him heart to put on a smile every time he stepped into the Wild Pony or pulled his phone out to answer his girlfriend’s calls. It was weird, but Michael needed to see Alex to handle being around anyone else.

It came in handy because when Alex and Forrest started going out, Michael knew the places to avoid and the times to avoid them. That was why it really shouldn’t have been possible to see Alex and Forrest now, curled up in one booth, poring over a journal with their heads close together, both their cheeks red from laughing.

Forrest had his arm over the back of the booth, his fingers idly playing with Alex’s hair. Alex reached one hand up every so often and tugged at Forrest’s sweater, as if to get his attention, but he didn’t seem to realize that Forrest’s attention was on no one _but_ him. The historian’s eyes were fond as he watched Alex, his smile soft, as if he couldn’t believe his own luck. But that wasn’t what hurt. What hurt, and what pushed Michael to go join them not long after, was that Alex, when he thought Forrest wasn’t looking, would look up at the historian with the same expression.

“Mornin’,” Michael plastered on a smile as he slid into the booth opposite them.

Alex blinked, surprised. “Hey!”

“What’s up, cowboy?” Forrest said, and he and Alex straightened a bit, though Michael noticed the way they scooted closer together, as if they couldn’t be comfortable if they weren’t pressed up against one another. He clenched his jaw.

“Nothing much,” he said, keeping his voice light. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Alex, don’t you have work?”

If Alex was surprised that Michael knew his schedule, he didn’t show it. He shrugged and turned a charmed smile to Forrest. “I know, but we thought we could come here for breakfast beforehand. Get some writing done.”

Michael very pointedly did not add, _And by_ we _, you mean Forrest?_

But Forrest was patting the back of Alex’s head now, letting his hand fall to Alex’s shoulder and massaging the area, and Michael felt it more difficult to insult the man who so clearly wanted nothing more than to take care of Alex and give him a good morning.

“Oh, speaking of which,” Alex said suddenly, checking his watch. “I gotta go.”

“Okay,” Forrest said. “See you tonight?”

Alex’s smile widened as he leaned down, pecked Forrest’s lips, and said, “Yes, please.”

“Bye,” Forrest said with his eyes still shut, his smile content, and he pecked Alex’s lips again before Alex stepped out of the booth.

Forrest sighed as he leisurely wrapped his journal, leaned back in his seat, and waited a few seconds before he spread his arm out, as if silently telling Michael, _Well, go follow him and tell him whatever you wanted to tell him._

Michael huffed, torn between not wanting to confirm Forrest’s suspicions, and uncomfortably aware of how calm and unruffled Forrest was that Michael obviously wanted to talk to his boyfriend. As if he was not at all threatened by the idea that Alex might leave him for Michael.

Still, Michael pushed the nagging voice in his head aside and went to follow Alex. He caught him as he neared his car door.

“Alex, hold up!” he blurted before he could help himself.

Alex turned to Michael, blinking. “Yeah?”

“Uh,” was the first word to leave Michael’s lips. He hadn’t really thought of what he would say to Alex once he got him alone. “You and Forrest have gotten pretty close, huh?”

Alex huffed a chuckle, his brows furrowed. “Guerin, I really have to go.”

Alex turned, and Michael, unable to get the image of him and Forrest together, said, “You having fun with him for now?”

Alex stopped abruptly. He turned slowly to Michael, his smile dimmer, his eyes narrowed. “ _For now_?”

“Oh – uh – I just meant,” Michael shrugged. “You know, just that . . . you know.”

“No, I don’t,” Alex said, all traces of humor gone. “What does that mean, _for now_?”

Michael looked around for either of his siblings to suddenly appear and help him, but neither did. It was just him and Alex.

Finally, because he thought he would get Alex’s smile back or settle the tension that had suddenly risen between them, he laughed. “C’mon, Alex. It’s me. You and I both know this isn’t a forever kind of thing, this thing with Forrest.”

Alex’s brows raised, but his tone was cold when he said, “Oh it’s not?”

“Look, I’m just saying I know you –”

“What do you know?” Alex cut him off, tilting his head. “Hm? No, really, what do you know about me that you think you can tell me my relationship is doomed?”

“I know that it’s you and me,” Michael said, knowing that when all else failed, their cosmic connection would be enough to keep them together, to keep Alex satisfied and happy and at peace again.

But Alex certainly didn’t look satisfied, or happy, or anywhere near at peace with Michael. He laughed, and the sound was so distant that Michael couldn’t help but take a step closer, as if closing the physical barrier between them would be enough to keep the invisible one away.

“ _Oh_ , I get it,” Alex said when the laughter subsided. “That’s why you left that night. You thought you’d, what, _give me some time_ with Forrest? That I could have some _fun_ until you felt like you wanted to be with me again?” He scoffed. “And the second you came calling, I would leave him for you, right?”

Michael held up a hand. “I – I didn’t say that –”

“Yes, you did,” Alex said sadly, as if Michael had somehow disappointed him.

“Alex,” Michael shook his head. “Come _on_ ,” he pressed. “It’s _us_.”

“Yeah,” Alex said quietly. “And I don’t think I can take _us_ anymore.” He stepped closer to Michael, but somehow, Michael felt as if the barrier between them was getting stronger. “I will _marry_ Forrest Long before I let you break my heart again. Understand?”

Michael couldn’t think of anything to say, his heart turned to lead in his chest. He thought of the man who’d sung that love song at the Wild Pony months ago, the one Michael had turned his back on for reasons he can’t remember or rationalize now. Alex with someone else for good? Alex marrying someone else? Alex’s family being someone _else_?

“A-Alex –”

“I have to go, Guerin,” Alex said, and turned his back on Michael this time.

“You said you thought we’d always end up together!” he said desperately.

“I guess I got tired,” Alex said quietly, “of loving someone who didn’t love me back.”

And as Alex got into his car and drove away, Michael realized the universe wasn’t mocking him at all. It was punishing him.


	202. Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's enlistment period has ended.

Alex parked his car and leaned back in his seat with a deep sigh, his fingers still curled tightly around the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

Beside him, in the passenger’s seat, was a copy of his discharge papers and separation documents. He hadn’t opened the envelope yet. There was no point. He was done, it was over. It was all over.

Alex placed a hand on his chest. _If that were true_ , he thought, _why can’t I feel my own heartbeat?_ Why did the world seem quieter somehow? Why did his limbs feel so heavy and his head aching?

Alex shook the thought from his head, grabbed the envelope, and made his way to his front door. He barely stepped in when everyone yelled, “Surprise!”

Alex blinked in the confetti and saw Liz, Isobel, Kyle, Max, Maria, and even Michael standing in his living room.

“What –” Alex barely started when the women leapt forward and hugged him excitedly.

“Alex, you’re free!” Liz said when she pulled back.

“Ugh, _finally_!” Maria said.

“How does it feel?” Isobel asked.

“It – um,” Alex shook his head. “You guys planned this?”

“We all did,” Kyle said and threw a streamer in Alex’s face. He forced a chuckle, but it came out no louder than a huff. No one seemed to notice, however, as Kyle gestured to Max, who had come to stand at Isobel’s side, and Michael who was leaning against the wall, his cowboy hat tipped down, his arms crossed.

“Max got the balloons, and Michael – uh – well, he got us inside,” Kyle said, and had the decency to look sheepish. He threw another streamer and said, “But the thought makes up for breaking and entering, right?”

“In my defense,” Michael held up a hand, “they said you knew.”

“Gregory said he’d come by later,” Isobel said, and Alex nodded. His brother may know how to help him fix this whirlwind in his mind. Not that there was anything to _fix_ , per say, but maybe he’d be able to tell Alex why his chest felt so heavy and his eyes burned so badly.

“Are you surprised?” Liz turned to him with a wide smile.

“Y-Yeah, I – uh,” Alex swallowed. “Where’s Forrest?”

Michael scoffed and looked like he wanted to retort ( _God, not now,_ Alex thought. _Please, not now_ ) when Forrest stepped out of the kitchen, a large cake with birthday candles lit in his hands. It was covered in blue and white frosting, an Air Force symbol in the middle.

Alex couldn’t help the small upward lilt of his lips as Forrest came to stand in front of him. “But it’s not my birthday,” he said.

“Well, it’s someone’s,” Forrest shrugged. “And they didn’t have any ‘Congrats, you’re out,’ candles. Try not to be so picky, Manes.”

Alex laughed in earnest this time and reached over the cake to peck Forrest’s lips. “I love it. Thank you.”

Forrest’s smile was soft and his brows furrowed as he searched Alex’s face. It ought to have frightened Alex, how well Forrest could read him, but it didn’t. It usually brought him a kind of comfort, to know that there was one person he didn’t have to lie and hide around. One person who he could trust would know how to handle his moods. He used to think that person was Michael, but since then he’d learned. No one understood him quite like Forrest did.

But right now, Alex couldn’t take it. He looked away, not wanting to reveal anything. He couldn’t, not in front of everyone.

Forrest seemed to realize even that, and as everyone gathered around the cake, he pressed a hand to the small of Alex’s back. Alex hugged himself, leaning into Forrest slightly. Michael was watching him with narrowed eyes, as if trying to understand what Forrest had spotted that made him so worried, but Alex did not think the cowboy would have much luck finding out. He had never really understood the way Alex’s mind worked like Forrest did, and Alex definitely didn’t feel like being scrutinized for not being eternally thrilled about the party.

So Alex plastered on a smile, clapped Michael’s shoulder to come have some cake, and all the while, Alex kept close to Forrest, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest at the thought of being away from him for a second and getting lost in the small crowd.

So they had cake, and they talked, and everyone kept asking Alex to recount some of his adventures and memories in the Air Force, and Alex did as he was told, his eyes burning with every story, his heart heavier and heavier with every memory.

All the while, Forrest sat beside him, arm around his waist, recounting some of his own stories from the military, his friends and the funny times they had. Alex was grateful. It gave him a chance to breathe, to rest his chin on Forrest’s shoulder, close his eyes, and listen. He was painfully aware of Michael’s eyes on him, but couldn’t bring himself to talk about it, not this time.

When the others had all gone outside to sit in the backyard, bottles of beer in their hands and laughing around a bonfire, Alex stalled in the kitchen. He sat at the counter in the dark, the gold light from outside shining in through the window, illuminating his untouched drink.

“I told them it was a bad idea,” someone suddenly said, and Alex looked up to find Forrest leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He was smiling gently. “Was I wrong?”

“Yes, I mean, _no_ , I mean –” Alex sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand. “I don’t know.”

Forrest pursed his lips, then, “Don’t forget, Cap, that I served, too. I was part of a team, I had my brothers. And then my enlistment ended, and I signed the documents, and I was out for good. And . . .” he came to sit beside Alex, hands on the counter beside the airman’s. “Turns out, it was really hard to let go.”

“Yeah?” Alex whispered, his eyes filling with tears despite himself.

And still, Forrest’s smile was kind and soft. “Yeah.”

Alex huffed, covering his face with his hands. He was – he didn’t know what – _relieved_? Sad and grieving, but ultimately happy that someone else understood. That someone could take what he was feeling, incomprehensible to himself, and turn it into something coherent.

“There’s something wrong with me,” Alex said, his muffled voice cracking near the end. “I’ve wanted to get out for the longest time. I never really wanted to join in the first place! But . . .”

“You found a family,” Forrest finished, and Alex dropped his hands to see him shrug a shoulder. “And you miss them. Waking up to a purpose every day, feeling like you have a place. And now it feels like you’ve lost that, right?”

In lieu of answering, Alex let his head fall onto Forrest’s shoulder. Forrest kissed his forehead and mumbled against the skin, “There’s nothing wrong with you, Alex. You’re no more jacked up than the rest of us.”

Alex huffed a chuckle through his silent tears. Forrest kissed him again.

Alex shook his head against Forrest’s shoulder and, in a voice barely above a whisper, asked the question he’d feared considering at all. “What do I do now?”

Forrest sighed, wrapping Alex in his arms and holding him. “Take it one day at a time, Cap. One day at a time.”


	203. Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria doesn't like forlex, but Alex won't hear of it.

Alex had a migraine. It had been there for weeks, but with every waking moment, it was getting worse and worse, _especially_ when he picked up his phone, or spotted a familiar face at the Crashdown, or stepped into the Wild Pony thinking this would finally be the night he got to enjoy himself and not worry about anything. He was always wrong. The migraine always got a little worse, his nerves always a little more frayed, his patience a little more waned.

Alex slid onto a stool at his kitchen counter and poured himself a mug of coffee. He breathed in the chocolate scent and a smile tugged at his lips. They were fewer these days, his smiles, but they felt more real than any of the others in the recent past had been.

He thought of Forrest at the grocery market, piling up the cart with boxes of hot chocolate packets.

“That can’t be good for you,” Alex had said on their latest trip.

“How many hot chocolate coffees are you having in a day?” Forrest had argued back before throwing in another two boxes and making Alex laugh in the middle of the dessert isle. “Exactly. You have to have _something_ to look forward to every morning.”

_I look forward to_ you, Alex had almost said back. The memory now made him blush.

He reached over and turned on a vinyl record, something by some old French singer that Forrest had gladly leant him a few days ago (“If I haven’t introduced you to Édith Piaf,” he’d said with all seriousness, “I have not been a good boyfriend”), and took a sip from his mug. As the song played, Alex melted into his seat, his elbows on the counter, the warm cup in his hands, chasing away the chill from his entire body. But it wasn’t just the coffee or the French music, he knew, that was giving him such comfort. It was the thought of Forrest.

Forrest here, swaying gently to the song so as not to spill from his own mug, smiling warmly at Alex as if the airman was a treasure he still couldn’t believe he’d found. Forrest would round the counter, setting his coffee down before reaching out for Alex’s hand. Alex would laugh and Forrest would tug him to his feet and they would slow dance around his kitchen. Only until the song ended, only for a short moment in time, but it would make Alex’s morning.

He would return to base feeling like he’d just had a vacation away with his boyfriend, feeling like maybe nothing was so bad after all, all because he and Forrest had danced together.

Then the doorbell rang and Alex’s eyes fell shut, the sound cutting through the scene of himself and Forrest like an ax to a log.

He let the visitor wait outside while he took another, steady sip. He was sure he was going to need his strength when he answered. Finally, and with a deep sigh, Alex pushed himself off his seat and went to open the door.

He was not the slightest bit surprised to find Maria standing there, her arms crossed.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said in lieu of a greeting.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“You cancelled our plans,” she accused him again.

“Please,” Alex sighed, turning his back on her, “do come in.”

“Why would you do that?” Maria asked as she followed him inside and shut the door behind her. “And did you really think you could do it over the phone and it’d be okay?”

“Coffee?” Alex offered dryly as he took his seat again, curling his fingers around his mug, but it was no use. The warmth and simple pleasure of the morning was gone, replaced by the same weary, migraine-inducing chill that had been haunting him the past two months.

Maria stood by the door, unimpressed. “Would you talk to me, please?”

Alex took another sip, hoping the wait would be enough to get her to leave. It pained him to think that. He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted Maria to _go away_ , but it seemed like the past _year_ had been just that. First because of Michael, and now because of Forrest. He wondered when he would find a man that Maria _didn’t_ have anything to say about.

_It doesn’t matter,_ he reasoned. _I like Forrest too much now to think of giving him up, no matter who dislikes it._

“So this is it now?” Maria asked, coming around to sit across him from the counter, her fingers interlocked. “You’re just going to give me the silent treatment until I leave?”

“I’m not giving you the silent treatment, Maria,” Alex said wearily. “I just don’t know what to say to you anymore.”

He was so tired, and so tired of being tired, and _so tired_ that his friends always seemed to be the _reason_ he was so tired. There was another thing he couldn’t remember; the last time he felt like he could talk to either Liz or Maria about anything without worrying that their answer would make him feel worse.

Oddly enough, Alex thought that moment of something Michael had told him a few years ago. _We’ve been holding onto this thing! And it’s gotten us nowhere!_

Maybe Alex was holding on to the friends he had when he was seventeen. Maybe he’d changed too much to be that kind of friend again.

Maria pressed her lips together and nodded slowly, as if they were in an office building and someone was bringing up an offer she didn’t like, but also didn’t want to outright disagree with so as not to cause conflict. It was a tactic Alex recognized from Flint and Clay, whenever they wanted him to do something as a kid but wanted him to believe he’d made the decision himself.

“Okay,” she said diplomatically, and already, Alex could feel his fingers involuntarily tighten on his mug. “ _Okay_ , I hear you. I get it. You don’t like what I have to say about Forrest –”

“No, I don’t, glad that’s cleared up,” he said, the warning in his voice evident to his own ears.

“ _But_ ,” she persisted and Alex closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I think if you hear me out, you’ll see why I don’t think he’s –”

“ _Maria_ ,” he said through grit teeth before he could help himself. “This isn’t a freaking _debate_ , it’s my life. I’m not going to go over pros and cons with you. I like Forrest, he’s my boyfriend, I want him to stay my boyfriend, end of story.”

“But I –”

“And weren’t you the one that was eager for us to get together in the first place?”

“Well, yeah, but I –” then she huffed a laugh as if there was anything funny about this conversation. As if Alex even had it in him to laugh with her anymore. “You know, I thought you’d like to have some fun for a while, but this thing with Forrest has been going on for months –”

“No, let me tell you what you thought,” Alex snapped. “You felt guilty for going after Guerin, so _you thought_ that if I hooked up with someone, it would make it easier for you.”

Maria stared. “I’m not like that.”

“Yes, you are,” Alex said sadly. Because it _was_ sad. “This is _my_ fault. I let too much off the hook, Maria, so you never had to deal with me getting angry, you never had to deal with our friendship as messed up as it is now. But I’ve _felt_ it, for the past _year_ , and I never said anything because I kept hoping you would get it on your own.

“And now – _now?_ – I ignore Michael’s calls at night, and I don’t ditch my dates to go help him whenever he needs it, and I don’t let him in when he’s drunk, and he’s miserable. And _you thought_ that if I would only break up with Forrest, then at least Guerin would be happy again, and you wouldn’t feel like you finally had to take some responsibility for being with a man you _knew_ didn’t love you like he loved your best friend.”

Maria looked angry, her eyes glistening with tears, but Alex wasn’t done just yet. Because he’d been hurting, too, and he’d suffered and kept quiet for the sake of his friends. And now, they couldn’t even do the same for him.

“Alex –”

“No, I am not finished yet,” he said firmly, setting his mug down roughly on the counter. When Maria remained silent, he went on, “You thought I would have _fun_?” he scoffed. “So did I. I _should_ be enjoying brunches with Forrest, and going to amusement parks, and spending nights in together, but I can’t do that, because every time, I get a text. Or a call. Or you _show up_ at our table to pull me away, and ask me when I think I’ll be ending this _thing_ now with Forrest. And _every time_ , I have to make sure he doesn’t see or hear or know. I haven’t _gotten_ to enjoy anything for long because of you.”

He huffed, a lump forming in his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “When you told me you were with Guerin, it was the worst day of my life. Don’t pretend you know what that feels like because you _don’t_. To this day, I still can’t believe you _considered_ going after him.”

“But you said –”

“Yeah,” he breathed miserably, and Maria fell short. “I _said_. I lied.” He shook his head. “The fact that you had even _asked_ me. . . . And I loved you. What did you _want_ me to say?”

He took a deep breath, exhaled shakily, straightened his back, and fixed her with a cool glare. “So now, you’re going to return the favor. No more talks about Forrest, no more calls about Guerin, no more visits like _this_. You either respect my boyfriend like a friend should, or don’t bother coming by again.”

Maria’s brows furrowed as a tear fell down her cheek. “You’re choosing your boyfriend over me?”

“No,” Alex said simply. “I’m choosing me.”

And she looked so stunned at the response, as if she hadn’t realized the damage she had done to him, to their friendship, that Alex knew there was nothing left to say.

Slowly, Maria slid out of her stool and turned to leave. Alex heard his front door open and close, and he went back to sipping his coffee, Édith Piaf playing in the background, imagining himself and Forrest once again, dancing in his kitchen.


	204. Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forrest and Alex discover that they knew each other back in the military.

“How long have you been going through that?” Forrest asked, amused.

Alex, who was lying on his back on the kitchen counter while the smell of pancakes wafted throughout the house, Forrest’s journal in his hands, shook his head. “It’s so good. Some of these lines. . . . Did you really feel this way when you came back to Roswell?”

“I mean, yeah,” Forrest said simply and kissed the sliver of stomach where Alex’s T-shirt had ridden up. Alex laughed as Forrest muttered against the soft skin, “I’m glad you approve.”

Alex pulled himself up as Forrest jumped up to sit on the marble next to him. “I love this thing,” he said, flipping through the pages. “There’s so much in here about – about New York, and past loves, and – look at this – you taped flowers in here?”

“From my visit to a garden in southern France,” he said into Alex’s hair and kissed his ear. “It was insane. You could touch the flowers, even taste them. I’ll take you sometime and you can see for yourself.”

Alex hummed, his eyes fluttering shut as Forrest traced a path of kisses down his neck and up again to his jaw. “Eating flowers. Romantic. For now, I think I’ll settle with chocolate chip pancakes.”

“Oh, speaking of which,” Forrest leapt off the counter, effortlessly and one-handedly flipped the pancake (Alex pointedly did not swoon), and returned to stand between Alex’s legs this time, wrapping his arms around the airman’s waist and leaning in to kiss his lips.

Alex wrapped his arms around Forrest’s shoulders, journal still in hand, and tilted his head, deepening the kiss. He gasped against Forrest’s lips as he felt the historian’s hands slip beneath his shirt and run up and down his sides.

“You know,” Forrest breathed as he circled his hands around to touch Alex’s naked back, “if you’re really hungry, I know what I can give you. . . .”

Alex took Forrest’s lower lip between his teeth. “Tempting . . .” he leaned in and whispered against Forrest’s ear, “but haven’t you noticed that breakfast is burning?”

Forrest whipped around to see the pancake was now emitting smoke in its pan, and he cursed and hurried to it, turning off the stove. He turned to point at Alex warningly.

“ _Don’t_. Just don’t.”

Alex pressed his lips tightly together to refrain from laughing, returning his focus instead to the journal in his hands. He flipped a few more pages before he came across a photo. Alex’s smile dimmed slightly as he stared at it.

His brows furrowed. “Hey,” he said, “where is this?”

“Hm?” Forrest put on more batter and came to stand next to Alex, dusting his hands off. He tilted his head at the photo and smiled. “Oh, that’s at the base in San Antonio. See, that’s my unit captain there . . . what’s wrong?”

Alex slid off the counter, landing on his good leg. He left the journal in Forrest’s hands and went to his bedroom. He opened his closet and rummaged around at the bottom for his photos. As he made his way back to the kitchen where a confused and slightly concerned Forrest stood, he carded through the pictures until he found what he was looking for.

“There, look,” he said, handing Forrest his own picture. It was similar to the historian’s except it was Alex’s team, him standing to the far right and caught mid-laugh as the other men did outrageous poses for the camera.

Forrest smiled fondly at the photo. “Cute captain, but what –”

“Look at the time stamp,” Alex insisted, holding Forrest’s journal so that they could compare the photos side by side. “It’s the same. These pictures were taken on the exact same day, a few minutes apart.” He shook his head. “When I first saw you at the farm, I thought you looked familiar, but I thought it was just because I might’ve seen you around town.”

Forrest was still staring at the photos, his brows furrowed, but his smile turned more and more incredulous by the second. He scoffed. “We’ve met each other before?”

“We must have,” Alex chuckled, jumping up onto the counter again. “I definitely remember meeting another unit at base that weekend.”

Forrest raised a brow. “I remember thinking that captain looked like a real hard-ass. I thought he would kill me if I said hello. Who knew, huh?”

Alex laughed, wrapping his leg around Forrest’s hips and pulling him in. “ _Hard-ass_?”

“I was _wrong_ , okay?” he said and pinched Alex’s ass cheek, making him jump closer. “You have a very cute and soft ass.”

“Steady, soldier,” Alex muttered before Forrest took his lips in his own.

They did eventually have breakfast, all smiles and red cheeks, their photos lay side by side, whispering of a forgotten shared memory.


	205. Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forrest is jealous about Alex keeping Michael's guitar.

Alex had a system. In the time that they’d been together, Forrest had learned that much.

Everything had to be in its proper place, all his furniture arranged a certain way, not so much as a speck of dust anywhere. There was only one thing that he wondered about, one thing that seemed out of place no matter how much he tried to consider its purpose; the guitar.

The guitar was a bit of an unspoken subject in Alex and Forrest’s relationship. It sat in the corner in its case, untouched. Forrest had come in at times to find it cleaned, but otherwise unmoved. There were times, when the two were lying side-by-side on the ground in a heap of blankets, Buffy curled at their feet, that Forrest would reach for the guitar only to feel Alex slide a hand up his arm and interlock their fingers, bringing Forrest’s hand to his lips to kiss.

It was sweet, it was hot, it was also a distraction. And every time, Forrest let it go because there was Alex and his dark eyes, a flicker of silver dancing across the dark brown in the moonlight, his rosy cheeks whenever Forrest did something as small as whisper a seduction, his hair tousled and his lips kiss-swollen.

But there were times, small ones, when Forrest would come in to find Alex sitting on his piano bench, staring at the guitar as if it was speaking to him.

“Baby?” Forrest softly said and Alex blinked several times as if just waking from a trance. Forrest sat down beside him, glancing at the guitar. He moved Alex’s bangs back from his eyes, and felt that small ball of tension in his chest loosen when Alex’s eyes fluttered and he followed the touch.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” Alex hummed, and rested his head on Forrest’s shoulder. Forrest kissed the top of his head, taking Alex’s hand in his own. “Just thinking.”

Forrest rested his head on top of Alex’s and tried not to think about what that meant. He’d heard whispers, suspicions amongst Alex’s friends at the Wild Pony or the Crashdown. Whispers about Michael Guerin, a gift he’d turned down, something he apparently deeply regretted now.

It was a suspicion Forrest tried to ignore, because even if it was true, even if Michael was the guy in Alex’s song, the ‘long time ago’ that sat in Alex’s living room corner and constantly caught his attention, what did it matter now? Alex was with Forrest, he spent days kissing Forrest, he moaned through nights with _Forrest_.

And still, there was the guitar. No matter where they went, no matter how many kisses they shared or times Alex breathed Forrest’s name. No matter the number of hours that went by with them in bed, holding each other closely, there was still the guitar. Forrest put an arm around Alex’s waist and held him tightly against him.

Forrest knew what Alex’s friends thought; that they were just a buffer, just someone for Alex to have some fun with until it was time to move on to someone more serious, but Alex had never once acted like that. Alex had never treated him as anything less than a real boyfriend, someone he wanted to get to know inside out, someone he _adored_.

“Forrest?” Alex said, and Forrest snapped out of his thoughts.

He realized he’d been digging his fingers into Alex’s side possessively, but Alex hardly seemed to notice as he was searching Forrest’s face with furrowed brows.

“Hey,” Alex muttered, placing two fingers in the space between Forrest’s furrowed brows until they relaxed. “Talk to me.”

“That guitar,” he said after a long moment. “Is it Michael Guerin’s?”

He expected Alex to tense up at the mention of Michael, but the airman only settled more comfortably against his side with a deep sigh and a nod.

“It was supposed to be,” Alex said softly. “I tried giving it to him last year, but he didn’t want it.”

Forrest didn’t know whether to be jealous that Alex clearly valued the instrument he’d once wanted to give Michael, or angry that the cowboy would dare shove that kind of gift back in his boyfriend’s face.

In the end, it was his curiosity that won. “Why not?” he asked.

Alex hooked his arm around Forrest’s, and Forrest became very aware of the airman tugging thoughtlessly at his sleeve.

“He was going through a hard time,” Alex said. “I gave it to him thinking it would help fix things. It just made everything worse.”

Forrest stared at the guitar, imagining Michael getting angry at Alex for trying to be kind, spitting in his face by throwing away such a good act back at him. It made fury settle in Forrest’s chest, desperate to tear Michael limb from limb. And still, that stupid guitar was still there.

“Why do you keep it?” he asked quietly, surprised at the steadiness of his own voice when he could swear that every bone in his body was vibrating.

“I’m not.”

Forrest frowned, the echoed whispers in his head telling him that Alex had held onto the guitar despite the way it was returned to him because it had been Michael who had touched it had all turned silent.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Alex rested his chin on Forrest’s shoulder, looking up into the historian’s face with specs of dark green and gold in his dark brown eyes, his face soft and pink. “Would you take it?”

Silence.

“What?”

“It’s weird,” Alex muttered, his eyes sliding to the guitar. “I kept worrying that I would be . . . I don’t know, insulting what he and I had if I just got rid of it, or treated it like any other instrument. The next thing I knew, it started to feel like a bad luck charm. Like if it touched anything I loved or cared about it, it would kill it.”

Alex scoffed. “But it’s just a guitar. When Michael turned it down, it was like he was. . . .”

“Turning you down,” Forrest finished, and Alex nodded, his lips quirked up in a half-smile.

“He never came back for it,” Alex said, and his tone was so sad, his expression so _abandoned_ that the jealousy in Forrest’s chest turned solely to sorrow. Alex didn’t deserve to have those kinds of taunting memories.

“Why do you want me to take it?”

At this, Alex cupped his jaw and leaning up to kiss him deeply. Alex released him on a sigh, and it took everything in Forrest not to chase his lips and kiss him again.

“Because if anyone can turn the bad things good,” Alex said softly. “It’s you.”


	206. Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forrest is insecure about Alex and Michael's relationship.

Sex should not have been so hard.

Forrest was losing his mind. It felt like every time he and Alex got close enough to touch, someone came along to keep them apart. And by _someone_ , he meant Michael Guerin. Forrest supposed he should’ve seen this coming, considering he’d met Alex and Michael together and they hadn’t really been apart since, but he had hoped that once he and Alex were official, they would have some moments to themselves.

For instance; late at night, in Alex’s living room. The two were curled up on the couch watching TV, Alex nuzzling Forrest’s chest. Forrest leaned down for what was supposed to be a soft kiss, turning quickly into something more as Alex wrapped his arms around Forrest’s shoulders and sat up to straddle him.

Forrest ran his hands up and down Alex’s sides, reveling at the tiny moans escaping Alex’s lips against his own. Forrest felt his heart hammering as Alex’s wet, hot mouth slid against his, the airman’s fingers in his hair. He imagined Alex’s damp, sweaty body against his, settling himself between Alex’s thighs. He traced his tongue along Alex’s neck and was just beginning to tug at the hem of his shirt when a phone went off.

Alex’s forehead fell onto Forrest’s, the two panting heavily before Alex reached over to the coffee table and grabbed his phone.

“Sorry,” Alex breathed, “I’ll just turn it off . . .” he trailed off, his brows furrowed, his expression turning resigned. “Damn it,” he muttered.

Before Forrest could ask what was wrong, Alex answered the call.

“What is it, Guerin?” Alex asked, and Forrest’s shoulders sagged slightly, his racing heartbeat steadying at the mention of Michael’s name. “Yeah, okay, I – hang on, just. . . . Okay. . . . Okay, we’re coming.”

Alex hung up and began to stand, reaching for his jacket off the armrest. “Michael’s found some new symbols on the console that he hadn’t noticed before. He thinks they could help make sense of the others. We better go check it out.”

“Awesome,” Forrest said with a sarcastic smirk. “Totally how I wanted to spend tonight. In a bunker. With _Michael Guerin_.”

Alex smiled, pulled Forrest’s face close, and pressed a hard kiss to his lips. “I’ll be there, too, remember?”

Forrest glanced inelegantly at the front of his jeans. “Please, I’m trying to forget.”

But was that the last time? Of course it couldn’t be.

Another example; lunch at the Crashdown. Alex and Forrest were curled up on one side of a booth against the back wall. If they sat close enough together, they were nearly invisible to the rest of the diner. And they _were_ sitting close enough.

It wasn’t like Forrest had planned to have sex in one of the seats, but as he pulled Alex’s leg over his lap and licked the whip cream off Alex’s chin, the airman’s breathy laughs fanning his lips, he did seriously consider taking Alex into the bathroom and having him right then and there.

“Someone’s going to see us,” Alex moaned against Forrest’s ear as Forrest nibbled at the soft skin on his neck, and he was immensely grateful that the two booths behind them were empty.

“Then how about,” Forrest muttered against Alex’s jaw, “we move this somewhere more –”

“Hey,” Michael suddenly slid into the booth and Alex and Forrest, startled, jumped apart. “Didn’t think I’d see you guys here.”

If Michael noticed the two of them breathing heavily, their faces red and lips kiss-swollen, he didn’t say anything. In fact, for a split second, as Michael glanced at Alex’s rumpled shirt and ruffled hair, Forrest could’ve sworn he saw his expression darken, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“Just – uh,” Alex cleared his throat, gesturing at the burgers and milkshakes in front of them. “Lunch.”

Michael hummed, his eyes solely on Alex. “You still coming tonight?”

Forrest thought he was very gracious in not rolling his eyes. He knew everything about _tonight_ as Alex had told him the second it had been arranged. Alex was to go to Michael’s bunker to help him practice with his powers. Michael swore he was getting the hang of Max’s power with electricity, but he only seemed able to focus when Alex was there. This, Forrest believed. Michael always seemed intent on impressing Alex, the airman’s single word of praise enough to raise his spirits and have him believing himself, and only at the thought of Alex in danger did Michael seem able to tap into abilities he never seemed to know existed.

But Alex was _Forrest’s_ boyfriend, and they hadn’t even slept together yet, and it wouldn’t have been a problem except that Forrest really, _really_ wanted to, and he _knew_ that Alex also wanted it… but the second Michael came calling, Alex ran to his side. Forrest understood why, he’d gathered enough of Alex’s past to understand that the airman would feel pulled towards Michael, but he’d hoped, by now, that that would end.

It didn’t.

A scene; Alex and Forrest at the Wild Pony, drinks forgotten, their cheeks flushed, their foreheads pressed together as Forrest inhaled Alex’s scent, and ­ _oh_ , he was ready to take him then. He couldn’t believe how badly he wanted Alex just like this, how he could imagine Alex’s hands on his body, moaning into his ear, hot and wet and _tight_ around him. His mouth hung open as Alex’s lips closed around his earlobe, his heart hammering painfully, his hands and legs trembling. He couldn’t remember ever _wanting_ someone so badly, and by the way Alex reached under Forrest’s shirt and clawed at his naked stomach, he wanted it, too.

Forrest took Alex’s hand and was just about to drag him to his truck outside and do very nasty things to him – when Alex’s phone rang with a message.

“No, no, no,” Forrest breathed, sliding one hand into Alex’s hair – it was so _soft_ , Forrest wanted to die – and keeping them close together. “Ignore it, baby, ignore it.”

For a moment, it seemed like Alex really had forgotten about the text. Then another one came through. And another, and another, and another.

Alex groaned as he pulled away to check, and Forrest only caught Michael’s name on the screen before Alex was frowning at the text.

“What does it say?”

Alex wiped a hand down his face, evidently trying to sober up. “I – uh – he needs me.”

Forrest sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Is it important?”

“He pushed himself too hard with his powers, I think he’s hurt,” Alex shook his head. “I’m sorry, Forrest, I’ll – I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

Forrest only nodded as Alex placed a kiss on his temple, grabbed his jacket, and hurried out.

Ironically enough, Forrest’s last straw wasn’t another interruption, but a time all three of them had been in the bunker – him, Alex, and Michael – and Forrest caught Michael glancing over at Alex every so often, raking his body up and down. He knew that look.

He recognized all too well what _desire_ looked like, and Michael had it for Alex. Forrest purposely slammed another history book in front of him, and looked up innocently when the others jumped.

Alex, who was sitting right beside him, looked startled, and for that alone, Forrest felt guilty. But he also couldn’t take it anymore. He was Alex’s boyfriend, and he didn’t even _feel_ like it anymore.

“Alex,” Forrest said, “you want to come over tonight?”

“Uh, sure,” Alex blinked. “Yeah, okay.”

“Aren’t you staying with Wyatt?” Michael asked with a raised brow, and Forrest plastered a grin that felt almost pained.

“I’m staying on the farm, and it’s big and my cousin and I are on opposite ends, if that’s what you’re worried about. We don’t even see each other.”

“It’s really cool,” Alex said, and Forrest could tell it was to his defense. “Forrest has lights and geographical maps and letters hung up everywhere, and it gets all silent at night. It’s like being the only two people in the world.”

Forrest smiled and leaned in, kissing Alex’s cheek. “Okay,” he settled on his book. “One more hour and we go. Sound good?”

Alex nodded, and Forrest touched his hair, already feeling better. Then Michael’s phone rang and Alex looked up.

Michael, who’d evidently been too busy staring at Forrest to notice, finally answered the call, his lips still pursed. He held it up to his ear, said, “What?” not without any edge, and his brows rose.

“ _Really_?” he asked, and Forrest _knew_ he saw him smirk that time, if only for a split second, before it was gone and his serious eyes were on Alex, his hand on his phone’s speaker. “Liz says she may have some new information on the console that she can bring by tonight. Can you stay a little longer for me?”

“Uh,” Alex glanced at Forrest, “can’t it wait till tomorrow?”

“Alex, I need you,” Michael said. “Besides, this is important for you to know, too. It might help make sense of some of those coded messages you cracked last week. You’ll stay, right?”

Alex rubbed his face. “S-Sure. Just a little longer.”

Michael smiled and stood. “Great, I just need to ask Liz something about Isobel,” he said, and looked to Forrest, smug and proud of it. “Private family stuff. I’ll be right back.”

And he left the bunker, the door closing behind him echoing against the steel walls.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said into the silence.

“Why would you be?” Forrest said, then, before he could help it, he added, “You have to stay, right? Michael needs you.”

“Forrest, come on –”

“Do you still love him?” he cut Alex off.

“ _What_?”

“ _Alex_ ,” Forrest smiled sadly, turning his chair to face him. “Whatever we’re doing, whenever he calls, you’re there. I used to think you were just sexually attracted to me, but we haven’t even slept together because Michael _always_ needs you for something, so I can’t even pretend _that’s_ true.”

“Forrest, I…” he shook his head. “I – I didn’t meant to make you feel like that.”

“I know,” Forrest said, took Alex’s hand, and kissed his fingers. “I know. But if it were anyone else, you and I both know you would never have stayed. It’s because it’s _him_. And that’s fine, I learned to accept what he was to you a long time ago, but I don’t even feel like we’re on equal footing anymore.” He sighed. “If… if you don’t want to date me anymore, then –”

But Forrest never got to finish his sentence as Alex suddenly took his face and kissed him roughly. Forrest heard a startled noise in the back of his own throat, but quickly melted into the kiss as Alex tilted his head and deepened it, his mouth open and wet and hot and _wanting_.

Forrest probably should’ve shown some restraint, but he’d been waiting to touch Alex for _months_ , and he couldn’t take it anymore. As Alex bit his lower lip, Forrest knew he was being given permission to lose control. So he did.

He wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist and, in one pull, brought him onto his lap so that Alex was properly straddling him now.

“Touch me,” Alex breathed in his ear, but Forrest was way ahead of him. He was already unbuttoning Alex’s shirt, unable to think of anything but Alex’s hairy chest against his fingers, his soft stomach, his waist, his hips, his strong arms.

Before long, Alex and Forrest’s shirts were on the floor, and Forrest was moaning at the touch of Alex’s naked chest against his own, Alex hugging his shoulders, Alex reaching down for his belt buckle.

Right then, Forrest spotted Michael standing at the door, eyes wide, the phone in his hand forgotten, his eyes tracing Alex’s naked body, explored and touched and worshipped by someone else, and he knew he should’ve felt something about that – pride, pity, _something_ – but all he could think of was Alex’s body, Alex’s voice, Alex’s breaths, just _Alex_ who, with his back to Michael, seemed not to have even noticed anyone come in at all, too busy instead with planting wet and hot kisses along Forrest’s shoulders.

Forrest’s eyes fluttered shut and regardless of whether or not Michael was watching, he moaned and grabbed Alex’s face to fit their lips back together. He was sure he heard the door close at some point, but he was too preoccupied with Alex’s hands tugging down his jeans, reaching into his own back pocket and pulling out –

Forrest moaned, taking the condom from Alex’s hand. “You knew?” was all he could say through his thinning breaths.

“I hoped,” Alex panted back. “I’ve been dying to feel you. Please.”

Forrest hardly needed to be asked, straining in his jeans which he was struggling to take off. He quickly managed it, licking his lips as Alex stripped down himself, but Forrest did not let him get far. They’d both been waiting too long for this.

It was worth it. Alex was too beautiful to describe, his touch too intoxicating, his heat too much. Michael did not come back inside until Liz had arrived, and by then, Alex and Forrest had found their clothes, were in their seats, and the only form of touch they shared was their linked hands under the table.

Michael kept glancing at Alex, no doubt expecting him to give him attention, but Alex’s eyes seemed stuck on Forrest.


	207. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Shadowhunters.  
> Michael has to kiss the one he most desires to save his friends' lives.

“Show of hands for who thinks this is a bad idea?” Isobel said.

Everyone but Michael and Maria raised their hands.

“Mr. Jones’s last known coordinates were here,” Michael said with a roll of his eyes, and tried not to glance at Alex who had raised his hand along with everyone else. “Private, you said your little scan caught his heat signature here.”

“Yeah, Guerin,” Alex sighed, sidestepping another dead branch protruding from the cave floor. “But when you told me you _had a plan_ , I didn’t think it meant facing this guy head-on. Isn’t he supposed to be a total psycho?”

“With powers,” Isobel added with mock enthusiasm as she and Liz clung to the cave walls for leverage.

Alex almost tripped as his prosthetic caught a large rock, but before Michael could catch him, Max grabbed his arm from behind. Once Alex was steady, he nodded to Max in thanks and Max clapped his shoulder. Michael felt stupid for being jealous, but Alex allowed Max to touch him in a way he hadn’t allowed Michael to do in months.

“It’s not a bad plan,” Maria said reasonably. “It’s all of us against him, and more than half of us have powers. What can he possibly do?”

Michael could tell Maria was trying to catch his eye, but he couldn’t help but look to Alex who looked over his shoulder at Maria with a raised brow.

“Is that an actual question?” Alex asked. “Or are you being rhetorical? Because I can’t tell.”

“He could cave the walls in,” Max suggested.

“Light the place on fire,” Liz offered.

“Pick us off one by one in the dark like some Victorian serial killer,” Isobel said spookily into the cave and Alex laughed.

Again, not something Michael had been able to do.

“Buddy system?” Alex offered.

“I get Alex!” Isobel jumped to his side and hooked her arm around his. “Let’s be honest, powers or no powers, I’m safest with him.”

“I’m flattered,” Alex chuckled, and Michael watched the way Isobel cozied up to his side as they walked. It should’ve been scary, much scarier than the others were making it out to be, but Michael knew Alex enough to know that he was trying hard to ignore that.

Alex may have humored Liz and smiled at Isobel, but Michael caught the way he continuously scanned the area, his hand hovering on the gun in his belt, ready for any attack. His first priority, Michael knew, would be to make sure that no one else freaked out, that everyone was as calm as could be. Protection was his job.

“Hey,” Maria whispered, pulling Michael out of his thoughts as she slipped her hand in his. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, closing his fingers around hers. He wondered how warm Alex’s hand was as Isobel clung to it, how comforting it must’ve been to stand at his side. Alex was limping more these days, and the rough cave wall wasn’t helping him now, but he gave no indication that he was in pain or worried. Michael knew that wasn’t true.

“It was a good idea,” Maria said, and Michael’s attention was dragged away again.

“Was it?” Michael said, smirking and feeling like the furthest thing from it. “What if Alex was right? We don’t know when my brother’s clone can do, what if he causes more damage?” He shook his head. “I should’ve listened to the Private, I shouldn’t have called anyone else here.”

“What’s that?” Alex blinked innocently from where he walked ahead.

Michael smiled, suddenly trying not to laugh. What was wrong with him? “I’m not saying it again.” Alex shrugged, and Michael’s smile dimmed. He didn’t know why it mattered so much to him that Alex approve of his plan, but it did. “If you think we’re goners, Private, why’d you come?”

“I told him to,” Isobel said matter-of-factly, as if it was obvious she wouldn’t go into a life-or-death situation without Alex.

“So did I,” Max raised his hand.

“Yeah, and, uh,” Liz held up a finger, “I’m not walking into a cave being the only human, thank you very much.”

“Fair,” Maria shrugged a shoulder.

“Too bad Kyle isn’t here though,” Alex said. “I’d feel a lot better if he was.”

Michael’s eye twitched.

“And Jenna,” Liz said. “I want to see the famous Team Human that Kyle keeps telling me about in action.”

Alex laughed, and something in Michael’s chest fluttered at the sound. “He didn’t actually call us that, did he?”

“Jenna did,” Liz amended, “but he approved it.”

The laughter stopped as quickly as it started as the cave floor suddenly began to shake. Isobel clung to Alex desperately who seemed to have no trouble staying steady despite his prosthetic.

“What was that?” Maria asked as she held on to Michael’s waist.

“Earthquake?” Michael muttered.

“Guys,” Max pointed, “look!”

And there, at the end of the cave, was a bright light. The others looked at each other, then ventured towards it, Alex slowly taking out his gun, Liz with a serum in hand, and the others holding their hands up, ready to attack whoever showed their face. They walked slowly toward the light, and soon found themselves in a large opening, the cave ceiling so high that it was almost invisible in the darkness. In the center, there was a large pod, emitting a bright light.

From the shadows in the corner, a voice spoke out, “Well, well, looks like the whole gang is here.”

They watched as a man that looked exactly like Max, save for an untrimmed beard and hair, came staggering out. He was wearing flannel and jeans, and Michael might’ve mistaken him for his brother if not for the wild grin on his face and the wicked gleam in his dark eyes. His arms were crossed, and he looked absolutely unperterbed to see them all there, as if he’d personally invited them.

Max kept a hand up. “We have some questions for you, Mr. Jones.”

“Cute name, that there,” Mr. Jones said and settled in what looked like a lawn chair against the wall. “I like it. Makes me sound mysterious.”

“No, you?” Michael said with a humorless smirk, standing beside his brother.

“Michael, Michael,” Mr. Jones’s smile widened. “You’ve been an interesting one, I’ll admit.” He scratched the back of his head with one hand and reached for a bottle of beer from a case on the ground next to him. “Your whole love story with the pretty soldier.”

Then, to Michael’s horror, his eyes flitted to Alex, “ _Manes_ , isn’t it? I remember your grandparents. Evil sons of bitches. ‘Cept one. You’re a lot like he was. Annoyingly heroic.”

“Don’t talk about my great uncle, you freak,” Alex said coldly.

Mr. Jones cackled and slapped his knee. He looked to Michael again, pointing his bottle at Alex. “Feisty little firecracker, isn’t he? No wonder you love him. Oh no, wait, you’re with _her_ now, aren’t you?” He gestured to Maria and sucked in a breath through his teeth. “ _Awkward_.”

“Enough of your stupid game,” Isobel said, stepping forward. “We came here for a reason, and you’re going to listen.”

Already, Michael could feel a slight breeze. Isobel had gotten much stronger, he could tell, and for a second, he thought she might be able to get through to the clone, but then he tilted his head, flicked his wrist as if there was an irritating fly at his ear, and suddenly, Isobel went flying into the cave wall, plastered against it with an expression of shock as if an invisible force were holding her there.

Alex held up his gun higher, and Michael tried to levitate Mr. Jones from where he sat, but he wouldn’t be moved.

“You’re trying your little mind tricks on _me_ , girl?” Mr. Jones barked, but the smile never left his face. “Who exactly do you think you’re _dealing_ with here?”

With another flick of his wrist, Liz was suddenly shot back into a wall as well.

“LET THEM GO!” Max demanded.

“I don’t like needles,” Mr. Jones said with an uncomfortable shudder.

He stared Max down, tapping his finger against the armrest. “Now, now, no need to get all upset. I’ll let them go… soon enough.”

“Let them go _now_ ,” Max grit out, and Mr. Jones’s expression twitched.

When he spoke, he was still smiling, but his voice was cold and quiet. “Brother… I have other plans for you.” He shrugged, and huffed. “Another day. Lucky for y’all,” he stood with a groan, “I was thinking of moving. But not without a fun little parting gift, eh?” He spread his arms out and laughed joyously. “What do y’all say? Sound good?”

He suddenly gestured roughly at Max who went flying into the wall beside Isobel and Liz, and Michael noticed he’d been handled a lot rougher than the others.

“Today, I think I’ll have fun with my brother,” he said. “What do you say, Michael?”

“I’m not your brother,” Michael said, his muscles straining as he struggled to levitate so much as a pebble at Mr. Jones. The clone pouted.

“Aw, now you’re just trying to hurt my feelings,” he said, standing. “Come on, I promise you’ll have a great time.”

And he gestured up with both arms. Suddenly, Alex and Maria both went flying as well, both pinned several feet apart.

“NO!” Michael yelled as he alone remained untouched.

Mr. Jones shushed him softly, making his way across the cave to stand beside Alex. “You know, Michael, I have to say, your love life has been… somewhat of a treat in the time I was imprisoned. Guy’s gotta have _something_ to keep him entertained and sane, right? Seeing into your mind, it’s a pretty romantic place. Who knew, huh?” he chuckled, slapping a pinned Isobel against the shoulder. Isobel looked like she wanted to throttle him.

“And of all the nameless, faceless bodies you’ve been with,” Mr. Jones shrugged. “One, just _one_ , stands out.” He pointed at Alex whose expression was furious, his jaw clenched. “Him.”

“Don’t touch him,” Michael said, hearing the fear in his own voice.

“I’m not finished yet,” Mr. Jones said, his expression slipping to something more insane, clutching Alex’s face so tightly that the airman winced. Michael clamped his mouth shut.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Mr. Jones went on with the air of someone so rudely interrupted. “I watched you love Alex the way I’d never seen another being love before.” He sighed longingly, resting his head on Alex’s shoulder. “It was so romantic. So beautiful.” He looked up, staring fondly into his face while Alex seemed to be trying his best to turn away from him. “And such a beautiful man, too.” He huffed, indignant. “I mean, I would’ve written _fanfiction_ about y’all if I’d had any pen and paper.”

Mr. Jones then made a face as if he’d realized something, and turned to Max. “Hey, I could’ve been a writer, too! Think that’s inherit?”

“Please,” Michael said now. “Let them go.”

Mr. Jones smiled widely. It seemed to tear at his face. “See, that’s the fun bit. I’m not keeping them pinned anymore; _you_ are.”

Michael frowned. “What?”

“I tied the forcefield around them to _your_ emotions – oh yeah,” he nodded at Isobel’s wide eyes. “Once you get good enough, you can control any feelings or thoughts that you want to. I’ll show you how, if you’d like. It’s a great little trick for parties.”

He pointed over his shoulder at Alex and Maria. “They will all be released once you kiss the person your heart most desires,” he said with false sympathy.

Silence. Then, Michael’s brows furrowed, “You’re lying. This is some stupid trick.”

“Oh come on, brother, I’m making it so easy for you! All you have to do is kiss the person you most want to kiss!” Mr. Jones said joyously. “And, to show you I’m not lying, I’ll leave! You could try to stop me, but you’ll fail, I promise you that much. And by then, they’d all die from behind suffocated anyway.”

Michael wondered what he possibly could’ve meant, but then he realized that the forcefield keeping the other pinned was now crushing their bodies into the stone. Michael’s heart hammered. They were going to die.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why are you doing this?!”

“Because,” Mr. Jones said darkly, all trace of humor gone. “I was stuck in here while you all had life and love and all that good human stuff up there. And I’ll be _damned_ if I don’t tear all of that apart. Starting with _you_.”

“Golly gee,” Mr. Jones then sighed sadly. “This’ll be an awkward moment for everyone, huh?” He nodded solemnly to himself a moment, then jumped slightly, smiling. “Welp! That’s it for me! I’m off. See y’all again soon, I hope.” He picked up a bottle of beer, finished it, said, “Crazy weather though, right?” and turned to leave the way the others had come, raising his hand in farewell. “Happy kissing!”

As soon as he was gone, Michael thought the forcefields would fall, but they continued to crush his friends into the stone.

“No, no, no,” Michael breathed, holding his hand up against Maria’s chest to force her free. It didn’t work. He tried with Max, it didn’t work either. “Come on,” he strained, the heat rising in his neck and up to his ears as he gave it everything he had. “COME ON!”

“Michael, it’s tied to _you_!” Isobel tried to say.

“Yeah, Michael,” Maria said, her own face turning red as she tried to breathe. “Can you please just kiss me so we can go home?”

Michael clenched his jaw and swallowed heavily. He hurried to Maria’s side. _Maria’s my girlfriend_ , he thought. _I love her_ , he thought over and over. _I want to kiss_ her _more than anyone._

So Michael took Maria’s face in his hands and kissed her. He kissed her just like he kissed her the first time, the time they slept together in the desert, the time outside the Wild Pony. When he pulled back, she was still suffocating, as were the others.

“No,” Michael shook his head. “Why didn’t it work?”

“Michael!” Isobel grit out. “We don’t have time to pretend right now!”

“Just kiss Alex!” Max snapped, his face turning an alarming shade of purple.

Gritting his teeth, and avoiding Maria’s eyes, Michael went to stand in front of Alex and put his hands on his shoulders. He caught Alex’s eyes, now full of tears as he lost more and more breath.

He rested their foreheads against one another only for a split second before pressing their lips together. He felt Alex’s soft lips against his, warm and beautiful and reminding him of everything they shared in that first kiss when they were seventeen. He tried to think, but all he could come up with was _Alex, Alex, Alex._ He tilted his head, deepening the kiss. A faint moan escaped the back of Alex’s throat, and Michael was sure no one else could hear it, but it ignited a fire in his stomach.

His hands slid from Alex’s shoulders to his hair as he fitted their mouths together again and again and _again_ , their tongues sleek and hot. Michael felt Alex’s fingers grip his jacket, pulling him closer. Michael brought an arm around Alex’s waist, pulling him in against him, desperate to taste more of him….

Then he realized Alex was not pulling him in, but trying to push him away.

Michael pulled back, breathing heavily. Alex was free and in his arms, panting and shocked. His eyes met Michael’s for what felt like hours before Alex forced his gaze away and towards Isobel who had fallen free, along with the others. Alex helped her stand even while he trembled himself.

“There you go,” he was saying softly, avoiding Michael’s eyes. “Lean against me.”

Michael dragged his eyes away from Alex and towards Maria who was standing there, staring at him with wide, glassy eyes. Michael opened his mouth to say something, though he didn’t know what.

It didn’t matter because before he could try to utter a word, Maria straightened and turned to leave. Michael watched her go, then the others followed. Max looked between him and where Maria had been standing, and held out an arm to Michael. Michael followed, unable to help but look to Alex who was once again walking ahead with Isobel and Liz.

Michael realized it was probably a good thing Maria hadn’t waited for him to speak.

_It’s him_ , he would’ve said, and been unable to regret it. _It’ll always be him._


	208. Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Forrest both try to propose to each other at the same time.

To be fair, the night didn’t _start_ off badly.

Alex had suggested the new French restaurant for dinner, and Forrest had shown up in the most elegant navy blue suit. Alex had been rendered speechless for a moment as he looked his boyfriend up and down while Forrest could only stand there, stare back at Alex in his black tux, his white shirt unbuttoned slightly, and finally said, “Well, damn.”

Alex had kissed him deeply, his heart hammering painfully in his chest, the small velvet box in his pocket so light that Alex was afraid he would lose it. As he felt Forrest’s hands slide under his jacket, inching closer to the ring, he panicked and pulled away, smiling and hoping it passed for not-at-all-terrified as Forrest rested their foreheads together.

Alex had kissed him once more, unable to help it, and before he could suggest they had dinner inside instead, Forrest tugged him along.

“Come on,” he said. “We don’t want to miss our reservations.”

Alex nodded, thinking that it was probably for the best. They needed lights and fancy tables and violin music. What was he thinking? He couldn’t go halfway with this. Everything had to be _perfect_.

So they got to the restaurant, they took their seats at the small table, sitting closely together so that their knees touched. Alex listened as Forrest talked about New York, something Alex knew he only did when he was nervous, and wondered why his boyfriend was so worried.

Around dessert, Alex would say, was when all hell broke loose.

Forrest had kissed a dollop of cream off the corner of Alex’s lips and Alex tried very hard not to moan. He subtly reached into his pocket and checked the ring was still there and as he did, he accidentally tugged on the white tablecloth, spilling both glasses of wine and staining the fabric.

“Oh my god,” Alex gasped as he reached for a napkin. “I’m – I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, Cap, it’s okay!” Forrest tried, taking Alex’s wrists and kissing his fingers. He looked like he was trying hard not to laugh, and Alex blushed. “No harm done.”

Alex’s shoulders scrunched as it took everything in him not to pout. He rarely pouted. He _hated_ pouting, it made Forrest pinch his cheeks and call him cute and he didn’t _want_ to be cute tonight, he wanted to be sexy and charming and all the things a man proposing to his boyfriend _should_ be.

“I’m sorry,” Alex muttered again as another waiter appeared at their table, as if out of thin air, and began taking off each plate to replace the tablecloth.

Forrest reached over and touched his hair, and Alex felt himself calm at the warmth. What was _happening_ to him? He was an Air Force captain who had endured the most excruciating of trainings, the most unimaginable stamina tests, and he accidentally yanked a tablecloth?

Maybe, he thought, it had to do with the way Forrest’s dark eyes glittered in the warm light, or his cheeks turned rosy whenever he touched Alex, or the way he smiled whenever Alex leaned in to kiss him.

Alex was losing his mind – _had_ lost his mind a long time ago for Forrest Long – and he was running out of time. He wanted to propose to Forrest, and he wanted Forrest to say yes, and he was terrified Forrest wouldn’t. Why hadn’t anyone _told_ Alex how nerve-wracking proposing would be?

“You okay?” Forrest asked softly, his hand on Alex’s arm.

And see, Alex was _sort of_ fine, and Forrest had touched him so many times beforehand, but now, his touch sent unbearable goosebumps up Alex’s arm and now Alex needed to wash his face.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “I just need to go to the bathroom, so if you’ll – uh – excuse me –”

And this is how you just _know_ that Alex was off his game; he hadn’t noticed that the waiter was still there. He stood so suddenly that he knocked the pitcher out of the man’s hand. What happened next was a waterfall of more than just water.

“Alex!” Forrest yelled and knelt beside him. “Are you okay?!”

“U-Uh,” Alex tried to stand, but he was soaked and covered with vegetables and two kinds of rice and his cheeks burned, and even as his hand closed on the velvet box in his pocket, all he could think of was Forrest’s worried expression. This night could’ve gone better, he would admit.

“Yeah!” he exclaimed, taking Forrest’s offered hand, the waiter helping him up from the other side. He cleared his throat, trying not to think of the way Forrest held him securely in his arms. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m great, really.”

Forrest looked doubtful as he scanned their surroundings; the mess, the people watching, Alex’s half-trembling state. He picked a piece of broccoli off Alex’s hair, moved his bangs back from his eyes, and gave him an adoring smile before he looked to the waiter and asked for the check.

Of all the ways Alex could’ve imagined the night ending, he certainly didn’t think they’d both be at the Wild Pony, still somehow soaked and still a mess while Forrest placed a hot cup of chocolate in front of him. It wasn’t on the menu, but Maria had taken one look at him, winced, and pulled out the cocoa powder. It was a sad night.

“Well, I still think you’re the cutest man in the world,” Forrest said and kissed his cheek.

“Please don’t call me cute,” Alex groaned and Forrest laughed. “And stop being nice about it. Just admit it, Forrest. This night was a disaster.”

“Alex, any night I’m with you is a perfect night,” Forrest said. “And if it’s any consolation, you’re beautiful even _with_ the bell pepper in your hair,” and he plucked another piece from the dark strands.

Alex sighed. “You don’t understand. This night was supposed to be special.”

Forrest’s hand stilled on his hair, and for a brief second, Alex saw a look of dread cross his expression. Had he known Alex was going to propose? Was it possible he’d known all along? Did he not want Alex to propose?

He looked down. _Great_ , he thought miserably as he pulled out the small velvet box. _Something else going horribly wrong._

“It’s my fault,” Alex said, resigned. “I kept trying to propose like I thought other people proposed. But I’m not other people, I’m… just me.” He shrugged a shoulder, giving Forrest a sad smile. His boyfriend had gone incredibly still, his expression unreadable. Alex wondered if this was the end of them, if this proposal would kill what they had. But he’d been holding this in for months, he’d been _ready_ for months. He had to see it through now, because Forrest deserved to hear it.

“And I’m not perfect, Forrest, I never will be,” Alex said. “I can’t talk about feelings like you can. All I know is that I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone, more than I thought I would _ever_ love again. And I never saw myself living with someone until I realized I… couldn’t live without you.”

“Alex –”

“And I know I’m not really husband material, and that you’re not really a marriage kind of person, but I _want_ to be your husband, and I want us to be married, and I want you to be completely mine, and…”

Alex shook his head, huffing a sad chuckle. “What am I saying? I know you don’t want to say yes, and I know you’d rather not be married, and – and I should’ve respected that, and if you could just forget all of this –”

Alex forgot whatever he was going to say next as Forrest took his face in his hands and kissed him hard. It occurred to him that Forrest was probably kissing him just to shut him up, to end the painful proposal, but it was very hard to care when Forrest’s tongue was sliding against his, Forrest’s warm hands on his face, coming around his back and pulling him in closer.

“No, wait,” Forrest breathed, pulling back, “we – we can’t do this –”

“Yes, we can,” Alex panted, desperately clinging to Forrest’s coat collar, chasing the historian’s lips. “Kissing is good, kissing is great, kissing means we’re still together.”

Forrest laughed breathily, pulling back so that he could properly look at Alex. “No, baby, that’s not what I mean. The kissing thing will definitely keep going, but… first…” he reached into his pocket, “I have to give you this.”

And to Alex’s shock, Forrest pulled out a velvet box of his own and presented it to him.

“Tell me you’re kidding,” Alex breathed, then hastily added, “No, no, don’t tell me you’re kidding. Tell me this is real and you’re actually doing it and I’m not dreaming. God, I’m dizzy, I don’t think I’ve ever said so many words at once.”

Forrest bit his lower lip. “Alexander Manes, I love you. I wanted to wait until after dinner to do this, but this is more our place anyway, so it works better than fine in my book. Any place would’ve been perfect because it didn’t matter. All that matters… all that’s _ever_ mattered to me, Alex, is _you_. Will you marry me?”

Alex stared at the silver band in its cushioned box, sparkling more brightly in the golden light of the Wild Pony than it would have in a fancy restaurant. Forrest was proposing, Forrest wanted to marry him, Forrest loved him.

And he loved Forrest. Instead of answering, Alex ignored the fact that they were surrounded by cowboys and onlookers and all but straddled Forrest’s lap, kissing him senseless.

“You… mph… have to answer, baby,” Forrest tried to say through a laugh as Alex smothered him with kisses.

“I’ll give you my answer in bed,” Alex breathed against his ear, and no sooner had Forrest slipped the band onto his finger than Alex was being dragged out of the bar, his heart racing and his eyes burning as he watched the silver band on Forrest’s finger glitter in the moonlight.

And that night, Forrest got his answer, loud and clear.


	209. Malex & Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jesse's funeral.

It was two weeks after Jesse Manes’s funeral, and Alex seemed fine. At least, that was how it looked to Michael.

The Manes men had all sat quietly for Jesse’s great big military send-off, Alex’s oldest brother Gregory had solemnly accepted the folded flag from a man that Michael assumed was someone one of the brothers must’ve personally known (there was a Manes in every branch of the military, after all, god help them), and Alex had seemed fine.

Michael and his siblings, as well as Liz, Maria, Kyle, and Rosa, had watched from the shade of a distant tree. They were there for Alex, but Alex didn’t even seem to realize it. Michael tried not to feel like it was killing him.

When the funeral had ended and others had turned to leave, Michael expected Alex to linger behind, to stay seated long after everyone had gone, maybe give his own private goodbye speech (Michael was determined to move to a tree closer to Alex if that was the case), but Alex had nudged a remarkably silent Flint, touched Gregory’s shoulder, muttered a word to Clay, and the four made their way out of the graveyard with the others.

“Alex,” Liz said sadly as they came closer. “I’m so sorry.”

Alex had let himself be pulled into a hug, and for a split second, Michael thought he saw a numb look in the airman’s eyes, one that had his heart falling into his stomach, but then Alex stepped back, gave a small smile, and shook his head, murmuring, “I’m fine, really, I’m okay.”

Not looking at any of the others, not even letting Kyle do more than pat his shoulder, Alex had distractedly kissed the side of Liz’s head and left with the crowd, he and his brothers talking to each other in quiet voices.

Michael had watched him go, staring intently at the back of his head, silently willing him to turn around, to say _something_ , because none of this felt right but Michael couldn’t put his finger on what exactly was wrong so he needed Alex to _tell_ him. If the airman sensed Michael’s silent pleas, he ignored them.

The next day, Michael hadn’t seen Alex at the bunker, and he wondered if the airman was holed up at home, dealing with whatever he was dealing with alone, or maybe at the reservation, consoling a lost Gregory, or maybe he and Flint had gone to visit Clay. Maybe they were all with Clay, wondering if there was any point coming back to Roswell at all. Michael couldn’t entertain that idea long.

The only one that seemed at all troubled about Jesse was Flint, who hadn’t said a word since he’d found out. Maybe, Michael thought, Alex was with him, worrying about getting him to eat and sleep since word from Liz said that he wasn’t doing either.

But no. When Michael had come into the Crashdown for lunch, he found Alex there, sitting in a booth, talking quietly to Forrest.

Forrest was pushing Alex’s bangs off his forehead gently, and Alex’s eyes were fluttering shut to the touch, and neither of them seemed to notice that Michael was staring. When Alex turned and caught his eyes, he gave a small, weary smile, and looked away. For the rest of the day, it was as if Michael didn’t even exist.

But Alex seemed fine. He was _fine_ , right? It wasn’t as if he and his father were ever that close, and Alex had just as many nightmares from his dad that he did from his time at war, so it wasn’t like he lost anyone any good.

 _Still_ , a voice in Michael’s head nagged. _Still, still, still…_

Still, Alex’s eyes were too dark, the circles around his eyes too deep, his cheeks too hollow, his brows twitching so often as if a storm was raging in his head and his skull was barely able to contain it. But what did Michael know anymore? What did he know of how to comfort Alex? They weren’t really that close of friends, they didn’t talk too easily, especially not about feelings, and _never_ about Jesse Manes.

But then there was Kyle. Kyle, who Michael had begrudgingly come to accept was Alex’s _friend_ now –

(“ _Best_ friend,” Kyle had said.

“You wish, Valenti!” Michael had responded.)

— and had a little more access to Alex’s life than he himself did. Michael watched him come in, spot Alex in a booth, and slide in across from him, huffing.

“I’ve been trying to call you,” he’d said. “I was worried, Manes.”

Michael had expected at that point for Alex to smirk and respond with some witty retort, to shrug and smile kindly and say everything was fine, but any trace of a smile on Alex’s expression faded away in an instant, and he grabbed his jacket off the back of the booth.

“Sorry,” he muttered, standing, “I have to go.”

“What – Alex,” Kyle tried, but Alex had already passed Michael and was out the door.

Michael had looked to the booth to find a confused Kyle. Forrest, on the other hand, looked resigned, as if his suspicions had only been confirmed, and none of them had been good. Michael didn’t like that look; as if Forrest knew Alex better than he did, as if he could read him so much better.

It made Michael chase after Alex. He caught him just as he opened his car door.

“Alex, wait!”

Michael closed the door before Alex could climb in, and instead of looking annoyed or put out or frustrated, Alex sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Didn’t hear you,” he said quietly.

“Like hell you didn’t,” Michael said. “Why are you avoiding us?”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Michael said. “You won’t even _look_ at me, you won’t talk to Kyle –”

“Since when do you care what I do or don’t do with Kyle?” Alex said wearily. “Aren’t you the one that’s always telling me that he’s a prick?”

“Since when do _you_ listen to me?” Michael defended. He took in Alex’s appearance; his slumped shoulders, the way he limped more heavily than usual, the way his eyes couldn’t focus on Michael but on his cheek or shoulder instead.

Michael glanced at the Crashdown window, made sure that Forrest couldn’t see them where they were standing, and stepped closer to the airman. He tried touching Alex’s cheek, but Alex tiredly waved him off, some of the familiar irritation returning to the frown at his lips.

“Hey,” Michael said softly. “Talk to me.”

Alex searched Michael’s face, and as he opened his mouth to speak, Michael thought he might get an honest, heartfelt answer. He didn’t really know what he’d do with it if he did. Then Alex huffed a weary chuckle.

“I’m just relieved, Guerin,” he said, shrugging a shoulder, but even as he spoke, his smile faded and his brows furrowed and he sounded more and more miserable. “I’m really… really relieved.”

Michael’s hand fell to his sides as Alex’s voice cracked at the end, shocked as he’d never heard Alex so broken before, and Alex opened the car door and got in without another glance at Michael.

It was two weeks after the funeral when Michael saw the Manes brothers again at the Wild Pony, and Alex seemed fine. He was sitting at a table with Gregory and Flint next to him, Flint still silent with a bottle of beer in hand, Alex bumping their shoulders together while Gregory and Forrest talked about who-knows-what, probably just to keep the silence from taking over.

Michael noticed the way Forrest’s hand rubbed Alex’s shoulder, subtly massaging the muscle there. Every now and then, he would squeeze a little too roughly and Alex would laugh, and he seemed… just… _fine_.

_Still…_

Still, Michael knew something had to be wrong, unable to get Alex’s voice and numb expression from nearly two weeks ago out of his head, and by the way Forrest moved closer so that he could drape an arm over Alex’s shoulders, Michael knew he wasn’t the only one that noticed.

Alex rested his head on Forrest’s shoulder, listening to his brother and boyfriend fall into easy conversation. Michael was sitting at the bar, but at some point, someone had to have noticed that he was blatantly staring across the room at one man. One man who smiled calmly and closed his eyes every now and then where he rested and seemed just _fine_.

Then one man who, as Gregory and Forrest spoke, as Flint only started to say a few words, began to tear up. A man whose smile began to falter. A man who covered his face when the others began to notice, who kept his face covered when the table turned silent, whose shoulders shook when Forrest’s hand fell to his back, rubbing soothing circles.

Michael stood abruptly. So did Alex, pulling roughly at his face to reveal red eyes and wet cheeks. Alex excused himself and stepped out. Michael followed.

He watched as Alex made it to the end of the golden lamp light of the bar, standing just outside in the middle of the dark desert, hugging himself. Even from where he stood hidden next to his truck, Michael could see Alex’s fingers dig into his own arms.

He considered what he would say, how Alex would take it. He didn’t know the answer to either. All he knew was that he wanted to hold Alex now, to kiss him and reassure him that he was going to be there for him, to protect him. But that couldn’t be enough, could it?

Just as Michael swallowed heavily and took a step out towards Alex, they heard –

“It’s cold out here,” Forrest suddenly said, stepping out leisurely, hands in his pockets. “Aren’t you cold?”

Alex kept his back turned to Forrest. He didn’t seem surprised to see the historian follow him out. Michael felt his heart plummet into his stomach. How close had those two gotten?

Alex shook his head, hugging himself tighter.

“No?” Forrest shrugged. “Well, me neither.” He took off his leather jacket and draped it over Alex’s shoulders, then silently began to rub his lower back.

Alex did not respond for several minutes, but Forrest seemed content with watching the stars and pointing out constellations.

“Everyone believes he was a hero,” Alex finally muttered hoarsely when they’d fallen into another deep silence, shaking his head. “It makes me sick.”

Forrest hummed and scratched his jaw. “Is that why you’re crying?”

Alex glared at him, but Forrest seemed completely unfazed. “He killed innocent creatures. He tortured Michael’s mother!”

Forrest raised a brow. “Is _that_ why you’re crying?”

Alex pressed his lips together. “He killed Jim Valenti, too, who was more of a dad than he _ever_ was!” Forrest said nothing. “And he hurt Michael, Forrest, _he hurt Michael_. I’ve never forgiven him for that.”

“So you’re crying for Michael?”

Alex’s lower lip trembled and for a second, Michael thought he might scream, but he broke down, and Michael realized he may have been crying for a lot more than his sake.

“I… I….”

“You’re sad about your father,” Forrest finished softly.

Michael thought Alex might object, but as he helplessly tried to wipe at his face, more and more tears falling the more he cleared away, Michael found himself hoping Alex wouldn’t lie to himself this time. His own eyes burned as his heart shattered for the airman.

“He doesn’t deserve it,” Alex cried quietly.

“No,” Gregory suddenly said, Flint beside him, arms crossed. “He doesn’t.” He huffed and, despite clearing his throat, when he next spoke, his voice trembled, “But that doesn’t make it kill you any less.”

Alex looked surprised at this reaction, probably having been expected to be scolded for crying for his father. Michael felt a cold grip around his heart when he wondered why Alex would possibly expect that, and realized it had everything to do with him.

Alex looked warily to Flint whose own eyes had turned red. Flint uncrossed his arms. “C’mere,” he said to Alex, and pulled him in against his chest, hugging him tightly.

A long moment of silence passed as they held each other, then –

“I didn’t know the guy, so…” Forrest said suddenly, breaking the tension so even Flint cracked half a smile. Forrest took Alex in against his side, muttering into his hair, and as the four of them stood there, sharing tears and escaped chuckles, Michael realized he had no place.

Forrest was the one holding Alex, kissing him, protecting him, and Michael couldn’t find room for himself at Alex’s side anymore.


	210. Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forrest and Alex act like a married couple.

_It’s like a dream_ , Alex thought.

Forrest and Alex’s Air Force team together, here at the Wild Pony, seated at a table with a couple of beers, laughing to one another about another escapade of the past. Forrest nodded along and shared his own experiences that he’d told only Alex before, privately, and he wore one of the many sweaters that always seemed warmer than any fireplace could ever be, and he slung an arm around Alex’s shoulders and kissed his temple, and Alex could blush and smile and not be worried about danger, and it felt like a _dream_.

Forrest understood his team’s humor more than anyone else might have, he knew about the experiences of a military man, the hardships, the desire to focus on moments of happiness and laughter because it was better than wallowing in the darker stuff.

When Alex was praised by one of his friends for a moment of courage, he felt Forrest’s hand take his under the table, because Forrest understood what moments of courage in the battlefield usually cost, what nightmares followed. When Alex openly admired one of his own friend’s strengths, Forrest smiled fondly at his boyfriend because he understood that a team was more a brotherhood than anything else. And when Alex winced at moving too suddenly or got uncomfortable sitting for too long, he felt Forrest’s hand slide to his right thigh and massage his leg.

“Alex, you’re freezing,” Forrest said, and slid his own black leather jacket off. He draped it across Alex’s shoulders, and brought Alex’s hands to his own lips to huff against. “I told you to bring a jacket.”

“I like the smell of yours,” Alex said, trying to will down the red blush climbing his own cheeks as Forrest’s hot breath fanned his fingers. “Besides, I can handle the cold.”

“Well, I don’t want you to have to handle the cold.”

“Well, I don’t mind the cold.”

“Yes, you do,” Forrest said, still rubbing Alex’s hands together in between his. “I’m getting you another blanket for your bed.”

“I don’t need another blanket.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” he scoffed, and Alex pursed his lips to keep himself from smiling. When Forrest deemed Alex warm enough, he picked up their empty bottles, said, “Next round’s on me,” and pecked Alex’s lips before heading over to the bar.

Alex turned to his team with a sigh and found them all staring at him, smiling teasingly.

Alex blinked. “What?”

“So,” Jason, a big man with blonde hair, said, “how many years have you two been married? Sixty?”

Alex scoffed. “Oh come on.”

“ _What_?” Andrew, a dark-haired man, laughed. “I think it’s cute! Our Captain Manes, a big softie. It’s adorable!”

“I can still kick your ass on the practice mat, James,” Alex warned. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Cap, it’s a _good_ thing,” Raphael, a man with eyes as green as the grass, said, smiling. “We never thought we’d see you so happy with someone, and Long clearly _makes you happy_. This” – he looked to the others, brows furrowed – “this _is_ a good thing, right? I mean, it’s _Alex_ we’re talking about here. Y’think we should be more strict on this boyfriend? Ask him what his long-term goals are?”

“It’s a great thing,” Andrew said, ignoring their friend. “Look at the way he cares about you, isn’t that just _great_?”

Alex scratched the back of his head. “I don’t _need_ anyone to take care of me.”

The men all groaned.

“He’s so cute.”

“Absolutely adorable.”

“So misguided, so _innocent_!”

Alex laughed. “You guys are pathetic.”

“ _Cap_ ,” Raphael slammed both palms on the table. “We know you’re _tough_ , Cap!”

“This isn’t _about_ that, Cap!” Andrew wailed.

“You’re breaking our _hearts_ , Cap!” Jason exclaimed.

“I’m never having drinks with any of you again.”

“Does he make you happy?” Raphael asked and Alex blinked, startled.

“I… uh…”

“It’s not a hard question, Alex,” Jason said. “ _Does he make you happy?_ ”

Alex looked to Forrest, watched the way he smiled charmingly at the barista as leaned against the bar, waiting for their drinks. When he caught Alex’s eyes, his smile turned warmer, more genuine, his eyes brighter and his cheeks flushed. He looked away, exhibiting a shyness he only ever showed around his boyfriend, but Alex found he could not stop staring.

His heart jumped at the sight of Forrest, in a way Alex had not thought it would jump again, and when he looked at the historian, there was no trepidation, no judgment, no cruelty or pity – only happiness and love. Alex had only ever dared to hope to be on the receiving end of such a gaze, and he’d begged for it more than once before from someone who had never been willing to give it to him without everything else that came with that, but Forrest gave it without being pleaded, without regret, completely and utterly unapologetic.

“Yeah,” Alex said softly, before he could help himself. “Yeah, he does.”

Alex was so lost looking at Forrest that for a moment, he’d even forgotten the others were there. When he returned to them, he found them looking at him with the same fond and teasing smiles they’d worn earlier. He threw his napkin at them.

“Okay, _okay_ , I get it!” he said. “I need him in ways that I can’t… really… talk about.” He shook his head, his brows furrowed. “I’m not even sure I really get it myself. But I need him.”

The men said nothing for a moment, then, “ _AWW_!”

“THIS IS WHY I DON’T LIKE GOING ANYWHERE WITH YOU!”

“What’s going on?” Forrest said, sliding into his seat, setting the bottles of beer on the table.

“Well,” Jason started, “Alex was just telling us –”

Alex stuffed a handful of walnuts in Jason’s mouth and leaned into Forrest’s side, the historian’s arm falling naturally over his shoulders, as if it belonged there. Alex secretly thought it might have.

“How much I missed seeing my boys again,” Alex finished, smiling sweetly at his other teammates. “Wasn’t I?”

“Yep,” Andrew said quickly, unable to hide his wide smile. “Favorite captain, right here.”

“Best guy in the world, wouldn’t you say?” Raphael raised his eyebrows suggestively, and Alex kicked him under the table.

But Forrest hardly seemed to notice as he stared at Alex, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he said. “I think so.”


	211. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle leaves at the end of 2x13 because he can't bear listening to Alex sing about another man.

Kyle drained his glass. He could feel Alex’s eyes on him, but he could hardly return his gaze.

He knew what was going to happen, he knew what Alex was about to do. Kyle wanted to be angry; angry about Flint surviving, angry that Jesse had died without hearing Kyle’s last words to him, angry that the town was honoring a criminal who’d committed unspeakable atrocities and that Alex was worried for a brother that would grow up to do the same.

But Kyle wasn’t angry. Not at all. He was frustrated. Frustrated because Alex had been taken and he hadn’t been able to do a thing but wait on the sidelines for someone else to rescue him. Frustrated that Alex had faced Jesse just as he himself had nearly a year ago, and was without Kyle when he did it. Frustrated that, once again, Alex and Kyle seemed to be moving further and further apart.

Alex had believed in his redemption, had believed him to be good, and pride had blossomed in Kyle’s chest for only a moment before he felt it; that aching hollowness that he’d felt so many years ago at prom, when Alex had held his glare without fear, and told him he was a coward….

When Kyle had _known_ , without question or doubt or knowing how he knew it, that he and Alex were not who he wanted them to be. They were not _where_ he wanted them to be.

And so Kyle decided to leave. He decided because he knew Alex better than he knew anyone else, because he _knew_ that if Alex was going to sing at Open Mic Night, in front of a bar full of cowboys, there was only one person in mind giving him the strength to do it. Michael Guerin.

It was always going to be Michael Guerin.

And maybe Alex was right, maybe Kyle _was_ a coward, but he couldn’t hear it. After feeling like he’d once again somehow missed his chance, he didn’t know if he could take listening to Alex sing to the man that never seemed to run out of any.

As Kyle left, he caught the look Forrest Long gave Alex, the one Alex gave back, and he faltered. Maybe it wasn’t just Michael Guerin, maybe it was other men, too. Others who knew of Alex’s value, who wanted their chance with him. All of them closer to Alex than Kyle was, and he still couldn’t understand how it had happened.

It wasn’t just Kyle and Alex anymore, the duo that had built the treehouse, who’d investigated Project Shepherd, who’d created a team while the whole world couldn’t bother to pay them attention. There were others coming in, others that had been coming in for a long time.

Kyle pushed the door open and stepped outside, the cold wind instantly nipping at his cheeks and nose, but instead of walking to his car, Kyle’s legs carried him to the brick wall. He leaned against it, inhaling slowly, eyes fluttering shut as his breath turned to puffs in front of him.

Soon, Alex would start playing.

Soon, he would start singing.

About Michael.

Always about Michael.

_I can’t do this_ , Kyle thought and pressed his hands over his ears, half-panicked, as the song began to play. He couldn’t listen to Alex sing, he wouldn’t have the strength to leave.

Maybe tomorrow Kyle would find it in him to call Alex and hang out at the Crashdown, maybe tomorrow it would be easier to smile at the airman, not flinch at the idea of touching more than his shoulder. Maybe tomorrow Kyle would be able to accept the cool distance between them.

But tonight, he wanted to be lovesick. Tonight, Kyle wanted to think of the redemption Alex had given him and hold onto it and pretend – just for _one night_ – that it could mean something more.


	212. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Jones visits Alex as Max.

The day had started with a knock at the door.

Alex had woken up in the middle of the night and had _stayed_ awake, preferring to focus his mind on coding and military work than try to let it rest for another second. He’d been doing so since he’d come back to Roswell, and even more so since Michael and Maria had started dating. It never mattered that they broke up, something in Alex had shattered at the thought of Maria’s hands on Michael’s body, kissing down the trails that Alex had kissed himself.

The real problem now, however, was the fact that Alex was struggling to do almost anything during the day, the exhaustion taking over more and more of his sanity. But he couldn’t go back to sleep, he couldn’t hide behind any more trenches, hear any more explosions, run from his father, run from the man he loved and the woman who had been meant to love him and yet betrayed him. Alex would’ve rather let the exhaustion kill him than succumb to these nightmares.

But that also meant that time stopped having any meaning, so when Alex heard the knock at his front door, he thought it was still barely dawn. A glance at his phone told him it was almost noon. Days off without any work schedule will do that to a man.

He pushed himself off the counter and went to answer, surprised to see Max Evans standing on the other side, smiling mischievously as if he and Alex were best friends sharing a dangerous secret.

“Morning, Manes!” Max said, uncharacteristically cheerful.

“Uh – good morning, Max,” Alex said with furrowed brows, stepping aside as Max let himself in. “Did – did something happen?”

“Hm?” Max looked over his shoulder at Alex, arms crossed behind his back. “No. I just felt like coming to see you.” He raised an eyebrow at him. “That okay?”

Alex blinked, surprised. A blush rose up his neck but he ignored it and began quickly clearing away his files. “Y—Yeah, that’s fine. Does Michael know you’re here?”

Max chuckled. “Come on, Alex, you know Michael. No one can even _mention_ your name around him. You know, because he” – here he did animated quotes with his fingers – “ _loves you_.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “Max?”

“Or, you know,” Max shrugged. “So he says. Doesn’t really act like it though, does he?” He chuckled. “What a _dick_. You want me to make you some breakfast? I’m basically Chef Ramsay with a few eggs and spices.”

“Uh – Max,” Alex asked. “Are you okay?”

Max stilled for a moment in front of the stove, but when he turned to Alex, his smile was smaller, more hesitant, the kind of smile Alex knew Max to usually have. Though there was something about the look in his eyes…

“I miss Liz,” he said blatantly. “You know, with her gone to California, I just thought you would understand what it feels like to miss someone and not be able to tell them.”

Alex felt an odd chill at the base of his spine at the darkness in Max’s eyes. Something still felt _off_ , though Alex couldn’t put his finger on what exactly. “I…”

“I can’t tell Michael,” Max shook his head. “You know what he’s like, he doesn’t take anything seriously, he doesn’t think anything’s worth caring about –”

“He cares about you and Isobel,” he defended.

“I know,” Max nodded gravely. “I know, but he doesn’t _love_ anyone like you and I do. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to feel like you’re burning from the inside because of how badly you want that person.” He sighed. “ _Alex_. Michael doesn’t have room in his heart to really love just _one_ person. He fights for who he loves… but not to keep anyone. He just doesn’t care enough.”

Alex blinked, startled at the cruelty of Max’s words. He wanted to deny them, to tell Max just how loving Michael could be, to tell him of all the times Michael had fought for him… and he came up with nothing. All Alex could pull from his memory were moments Michael had taunted him, had turned him away, had refused him, had let him turn away without a question, without holding on, without a single request to _stay_. Then there was the moment Michael chose someone else because it was easier.

Alex’s shoulders fell only for a moment, his gaze dropped for a single instant, but it was enough for Max to notice, and for a split second, Alex thought he saw Max smirk, but when he blinked, the man’s expression was one of sympathy and kindness.

_Still…_

“So,” Max shrugged a shoulder, his smile so gentle and so full of hesitation that Alex could not help but sympathize. “Can I make you some breakfast?”

“I…” Alex glanced at the door, half-expecting Michael to suddenly come in and explain what Max was really doing here, and why his brother was offering to do something nice for Alex instead of him. “Sure.”

Max smiled, and Alex felt the small ball of tension in his chest loosen just slightly. “Okay! Okay, food for two.” He pushed Alex’s shoulders, guiding him onto a stool at the counter. “You just sit down and relax, I’ll take care of everything.”

Alex sat down with a sigh and watched with a smile tugging at his lips as Max took a carton of eggs and a bundle of vegetables from Alex’s fridge as if he lived there. Alex had no idea how hungry he was until Max set a colorful omelet in front of him with an expectant smile, waiting for his reaction. Alex dug in and his eyes fluttered. A moan escaped his lips and he quickly covered his mouth with his hand, hoping it would take the sound back, but it was too late. Max had heard him and his smile had widened.

“Good?”

Alex shook his head. “Amazing.” He pointed a fork at Max. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

Max blinked, as if surprised to be offered. “Sure. Yeah. Breakfast, you and me.”

So Alex and Max sat and laughed and talked. All about little nothings but none of it mattered because for the first time, Alex wasn’t thinking about Michael or Project Shepherd, but about Jane Austen and movies and Hamilton. He was smiling and it didn’t feel forced. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

Then his phone rang.

Alex glanced down at the name flashing on the screen and any semblance of a smile on his lips disappeared. Max followed his gaze and his brows furrowed. They sat in silence until the phone stopped ringing.

“Why didn’t you pick up?” Max asked.

Alex searched Max’s face carefully, looking for any sign of judgment, any disappointment. There was none. He sighed, choosing to smile instead of cry about it like he wanted. Like he’d _been_ wanting for the past few years.

“Because I’m having breakfast with you,” he said simply and stood, taking his and Max’s empty plates. Max was staring at him with an unreadable expression. “Look,” Alex said, putting the plates in the sink, “for the first time in a long time I’m having an actual good morning. Can’t I have it just a little longer? And then, I promise I’ll call him and help him with whatever he needs.”

Max smirked, something that reminded Alex a little too much of Michael. He shrugged. “I’m not here as Michael’s brother, Alex.” He scoffed then, as if he’d made a private joke. “ _Believe_ _me._ You want to have a good morning, let’s have a good morning.”

Alex began to smile, but then they heard a tapping on the roof and rubble fell from the ceiling.

“What the hell,” Alex muttered.

Max tilted his head. “Must be an animal up there or something.”

Alex rubbed his eyes. “If it’s picking at the wood, I need to stop it.”

Max stood. “Now?”

“I don’t want to let it get worse,” Alex said. “I’m sorry. Hey, make yourself at home, I’ll be right back.”

Alex turned, not even considering that he was leaving Max alone with his phone that had started, once again, to ring.

*

“Come on, Alex,” Michael muttered. “Pick up. _Pick up._ ”

“He’s still not answering?” Isobel asked, sitting across from him in a Crashdown booth. “Maybe he’s still asleep.”

“Alex is always up before the sun is,” Michael said. “He doesn’t really _sleep_.”

She frowned. “Aw.”

Michael was directed to voicemail again. He got off the automated message and dialed again.

“Would you give it up?” she said. “He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I just need to hear his voice,” Michael said.

“Then go see him.”

“He doesn’t want to see me.”

Michael was just about to hang up and try texting instead when Alex picked up on the other end.

“Private?”

“No,” Max answered. “Not exactly.”

Michael frowned. “ _Max?_ ” He caught Isobel’s gaze. She looked just as surprised as he was. “What’re you doing with Alex’s phone?”

“Oh, we’re just spending the morning together,” Max said cheerfully. “It’s been a lot of fun. I’d ask you to come, but… well, Alex really hates you right now.”

Michael’s brows furrowed, a painful sting in his chest. “What?”

“He just gets it, you know?” Max said matter-of-factly. Michael was getting more and more confused.

“Max, what’re you talking about? What’s really going on?”

“Michael, I’m _telling_ you,” Max said with a chuckle. Was he drunk? “Alex and I just understand each other. I know what he’s going through. Being abandoned by the one you love _sucks_. Not that you’d know, am I right?”

Michael’s fingers curled to fists. “Max,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m being there for Alex,” Max said sweetly. “Does that bother you, Michael? Does it upset you that someone could actually care about Alex? Or do you want him to wait on the sidelines until you decide he’s worth your time?”

Michael’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed. Isobel kept nudging his arm, asking him what was wrong, but Michael couldn’t hear her anymore. Because just then, Max Evans walked through the front door of the Crashdown. Isobel followed his gaze and gasped, her eyes wide.

Michael stood. Max saw him and came over, concern evident in his expression.

“Mr. Jones,” Michael hissed before Max could ask what was wrong. “If you touch a _hair_ on his head –”

“Then what?” Mr. Jones laughed. “Tell me, what will you do, Michael?”

“Listen to me, you sick _bastard_ –”

“It’s too bad, you know,” Mr. Jones said. “He’s pretty handsome. Really nice, too. But, you see, the problem is… he’s too _clever_. Pesky, I know, but how am I supposed to corner you guys if he’s always there to save your asses? No. You understand I have to do something about it, right? Nothing personal.”

Michael was already out of the Crashdown, Isobel and Max at his heels. “I’ll find you,” he said. “You hurt him in _any_ way, and I _swear_ , it will be the last thing you ever do!”

“Oh, gotta go, Michael!” Mr. Jones said cheerfully. “Alex is working on the roof. I should probably go make sure he doesn’t, you know, slip and fall to a painful death. Later!”

Michael tried to argue, to threaten, to _plead_ , but the line had already turned dead.

*

“Alex, hold up!” Max called as Alex brought out the long ladder and set it against the side of the house.

“Max, I told you I’ve got it,” Alex said. “You should go back inside, have some coffee.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a Superman if I let you do this by yourself, would I?”

Alex laughed, and Max smiled. _“Superman?”_

“Don’t look at me!” Max said. “I’m not the one that came up with it! But,” he sighed, “I figured that if everyone was going to make me out to be so perfect, then I should probably do more than screw up all the time.”

“You’re talking about Liz,” he said softly.

“I let her down,” Max nodded. “Least I can do is help make sure her best friend stays safe.”

Alex looked to the ladder and sighed. “All right, hold onto it then.” He got ready to climb as Max hung onto the ladder. He paused, “And don’t worry. This time, Liz was in the wrong. She’s just got too much pride to admit it. But she’s smart, she’ll realize that she made a mistake, and she’ll come back.”

Max scoffed. “You, Alex Manes, are way too nice for this town.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

It was slow, Alex’s climb up the ladder, but eventually he made it to the roof. He tried not to show how out of breath he already was, looking around for the animal tapping on the wood. Instead, he found that a part of the roof was caved in, barely held together by the support beams below.

Alex frowned. “What the hell?”

“What’s going on?” Max called from below.

Alex shook his head. “It looks like something struck the roof and broke the wood apart.”

Max hummed. “Or some _one_.”

“Who would be able to do this? I would’ve noticed if someone had been on my roof, they would’ve had to not use their… hands…” Alex looked down again and was met with two sights.

The first was that the ladder had been taken down and Alex was now stuck on the roof. The second was that Max was watching him, amused, his arms crossed.

Alex stepped back slowly so that he could hold onto his chimney but keep an eye on Max – or the imposter, he should say – at once.

“You’re not Max.”

“No,” Mr. Jones said with mock sympathy. “But hey, getting you up there was easier than I thought it’d be. I thought this would have to be a lot messier, but falling off the roof works, too.” He cackled. “You’re usually too smart to trick. You must be _tired_!”

“Get away from me,” Alex warned.

“Oh I won’t _touch_ you, Alex,” Mr. Jones smiled. “That’s sort of the point. Murder always comes with way too many questions. _Accidents_ , on the other hand…”

“No one will believe that I let myself fall off the roof,” Alex said.

“They will actually, want to know why?” Mr. Jones tilted his head. “Because you’re broken, Alex. You’re a shattered toy who can barely stay on your feet, and everyone knows it. You don’t sleep, you don’t eat…. Max Evans _may_ be Superman… but _you’re_ definitely not.” He shrugged. “Anywho. We don’t really have a lot of time, so –”

Mr. Jones put out a hand and Alex felt himself suddenly jerk forward. He managed to stay on the roof only by grabbing the chimney at the last second.

“It’s a shame,” Mr. Jones sighed. “You really could’ve been _someone_ , you know, if you weren’t so busy _looking after_ everyone else. Let this be a lesson for the future; only look out for _yourself_. Well, you won’t _have_ a future, but you get my point, right?”

He tried to yank Alex off again, and once again, Alex held on by the tip of his fingers, his nails scraping the bricks and breaking off. Alex’s fingers bled and his hands scarred, his head felt heavy and the world was spinning. He was too tired to keep holding on, too disoriented to think of a plan. All he could do was hang on as Mr. Jones tried to throw him off the roof again, and again, and _again_.

“You’re being _really_ difficult right now, Alex!” Mr. Jones snapped, the both of them breathing heavily after several minutes. “Would you just… die… ALREADY?!”

_Michael_ , Alex thought desperately, terrified that just saying the cowboy’s name would take too much of the energy he was using to stay alive. He wanted to see Michael, he wanted to tell him how much he loved him, how much he would miss him. _Where are you?_ Alex shut his eyes tight, thinking of Michael, his grip on the chimney weakening.

One more pull, he knew, was all it would take. Then –

_CRASH!_

Alex opened his eyes and gasped. Mr. Jones had been thrown into the set of chairs and tables Alex had in his backyard. He was unconscious.

“Alex!” Michael called. “Alex, where are you?!”

“Here,” Alex breathed, then, louder, “Up here!”

Michael, Isobel, and the real Max came into view, looking as if they’d run a marathon.

“Alex,” Michael called, eyes wild. “Are you okay?!”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, I’m – I’m fine.”

“Michael,” Max said, lifting the ladder. “Help me with this.”

The both of them set the ladder against the wall for Alex to climb down. Max held onto the ladder while Michael held his arms out for Alex. The airman barely touched the ground before he was engulfed in a bone-crushing hug.

“You’re okay,” Michael breathed against his hair. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

“Alex,” Isobel stared cautiously at Mr. Jones who Max was injecting with what looked like a serum. “What _happened_?”

Alex shook his head. Michael would not release him for a second. “I thought he was Max. I’m sorry, I – I should’ve been able to tell.”

“You’re exhausted, look at you,” Michael said, taking Alex’s face in his hands. He seemed to forget himself as he kissed Alex’s forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, his nose. Alex stopped him before he mindlessly kissed his lips.

“I’m – I’m okay,” Alex said, though he kept a tight hold on Michael’s jacket. “Really.”

Michael seemed to realize that Alex also wanted to stay close, and he brought an arm around his back, rubbing soothingly. Alex thought he could almost collapse against him and fall asleep now.

“What did he want with me though?” Alex asked.

“He knows how important you are to us,” Michael said.

“All the help you’ve given us,” Max shook his head as he came over. “You’re kind of our protector, Alex. He doesn’t really like that.”

“No kidding,” Alex muttered. Looking at Max now, he could see the difference between them. Max’s eyes were darker, but his concern more genuine, his kindness almost palpable. Alex blushed when he thought of the man he’d had breakfast with. He found himself disappointed that he’d lost a friend he didn’t know he needed.

“I’m here now,” Michael said against his hair, and Alex’s heart hammered painfully in his chest. “He won’t touch you again.”

Alex turned his red face away from Isobel and Max’s eyes. He wished Michael wouldn’t talk to him like that in front of other people.

“I just need some sleep,” Alex shook his head against Michael’s chest. “Please, just… get him off my property,” he nudged with his chin at Mr. Jones. “I don’t want to see him here again.”

Max nodded sympathetically, touched his shoulder, and asked for Isobel’s help dragging Mr. Jones to his car. Meanwhile, Alex was left alone in Michael’s arms.

“Mind if I stay with you?” Michael said, pushing Alex’s bangs back from his eyes. “I won’t be able to function if I know you’re here unprotected.”

“I don’t need protection.”

“Please, Alex.”

Alex searched his face, his hands coming around Michael’s waist and reaching up to touch his back. He couldn’t believe how much he missed Michael’s body against his.

“Can’t you just stay with me for the sake of staying with me?”

Michael’s expression faltered. “You’d let me?”

Alex pressed his forehead against Michael’s shoulder, trying not to think of Mr. Jones’s words. _He fights for who he loves… but not to keep anyone. He just doesn’t care enough._

Mr. Jones had been wrong. Alex knew that better than anyone. He held on tighter to Michael, as tightly as he needed to make sure the cowboy didn’t leave him again.

“Just stay with me, Michael. Stay.”


	213. Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flint protects Alex.

Forrest woke up to find Alex’s side of the bed empty.

The blanket pooled at his naked hips as he sat up, looking around the airman’s bedroom. “Alex?” he croaked. He dressed in his sweats and Alex’s Air Force sweater, washed up, and padded along the corridor, the hardwood floors cold against his bare feet.

He smelled the coffee before stepping into the kitchen to find Alex sitting at the counter, two mugs in front of him, his head in his hands.

“Hey,” he said, kissing Alex’s temple before taking a good look at him. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” Alex nodded and gestured at the black mug next to his own blue one. “I made you some tea.”

“How’d you know I was awake?” he asked, and Alex shrugged a shoulder.

“You always wake up around the same time I do.” He gave Forrest half a smile, the exhaustion evident in the dark circles around his eyes, his hollow cheeks, the way he seemed barely able to hold onto his smile for longer than a second.

Forrest sighed, pushing his hair back. “Rough night, huh?”

“Yeah,” Alex muttered. “Something like that.”

Forrest was about to ask what Alex meant when Flint came in, fully dressed in his uniform. Alex watched him pull an apple out of the basket on the counter.

“I made you some coffee,” Alex said. “Cinnamon and two sugars; your favorite.”

“I don’t have time,” Flint said curtly and turned to leave. “I have to be at the base.”

Alex sat up straighter in his seat as Flint disappeared into the hall. “You’re still coming to the Crashdown for lunch, right?” he called after him.

In lieu of an answer, Flint shut the front door, and Alex and Forrest were alone. Alex’s shoulders sagged and he rubbed his eyes wearily.

“He hates me,” he said.

“He doesn’t hate you,” Forrest said, running a soothing hand up and down Alex’s back. “He just needs some time to adjust to all of this. You both do.”

Alex sighed, falling against Forrest’s side, the historian always ready to catch him. Alex rested his head on Forrest’s shoulder as if the weight of his thoughts was too heavy to bear.

“It’s because of me that dad is dead,” he said quietly. “He’s never going to forgive me.”

“He knew the kind of man your dad was,” Forrest said into Alex’s hair. “What happened was for the best. On some level, your brother knows that. He needs to come to terms with it on his own now. Let him get there.”

Alex said nothing a moment, then he whispered, his voice cracking, “I don’t want him to be alone.”

Forrest’s eyes shut. He tightened his arm around Alex’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “My sweet baby.”

“Don’t call me sweet,” Alex grumbled half-heartedly, and Forrest laughed.

“Would you prefer it if I called you sexy?” he offered. “I mean, I could, but that always gets you going and it’s pretty early – _ah_!”

Forrest doubled over, laughing harder now after Alex elbowed his stomach.

“Why do I bother telling you anything?” Alex said, lightly hitting Forrest’s back with his fists before pressing his face against the historian’s spine. Whatever he said next was too muffled to be coherent.

Forrest remained bent over, laughing. _“What?”_

Alex turned his face so that his cheek was squished against Forrest’s back. “You smell good.”

“I’m wearing _your_ sweatshirt,” Forrest smirked.

“No,” Alex said faintly, his eyes closing. “You always smell like this.”

Forrest tilted his head. His neck ached from bending it like that, but he didn’t want to disturb Alex’s rest, even if it was against his own spine.

“Alex,” he said. “Flint will come around. You’ll see.”

Alex sniffed, his lips pursed. “You know, when we were kids, Flint used to let me sleep in his bed with him when mom and dad would fight. He used to cover my ears really tight and tell me to pretend it was just a storm, and soon it would stop.”

Alex sat up and Forrest followed, scooting closer on his stool so that his shoulder was pressed against Alex’s. Alex huffed, his eyes red and glassy as he looked to Forrest. “He’s _so much more_ than what dad taught him to be. I just wish he knew that. I already lost my brothers once, Forrest, I can’t do it again.”

“Shh, shh,” Forrest pulled him in against his chest, and Alex tightly gripped his sweater, releasing a deep, shaky sigh. “It’s okay,” Forrest kissed him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Alex said nothing as Forrest held onto him. He didn’t know how to explain to Alex, how to reassure him that he believed Flint would come over to his side soon enough. How could he tell Alex that it was inevitable anyone would be willing to die for him because of who he was? How could he say that there was something so inherently _pure_ about him that it made anyone around him eager to please him, to see him happy, to get his approval?

Forrest couldn’t manage it. All he could do was tighten his hold on Alex and make sure the airman had his breakfast for the morning despite his unwillingness to eat, all the while thinking – not with any small amount of amusement – that Alex _really_ didn’t know his own power over people. Flint would come around because Alex was his brother, and if anyone knew how important it was to have Alex in their corner, to have that unimaginable love and protection, it had to be another Manes man.

It was one of Alex’s rare days off, so after breakfast, he had let Forrest lead him to the couch where they lied and watched Merlin for hours, Buffy curled at their feet, barking whenever the Great Dragon came onto the screen. Forrest combed Alex’s hair with his fingers while Alex pressed his face into Forrest’s chest, inhaling his scent until it was time for them to get dressed for lunch.

“He’s not coming,” Alex said as he came back into the living room, fixing the collar on his hoodie. “You’ll see, he’ll find any excuse to stay at the base, and he won’t even text us.”

“He’s coming,” Forrest assured him.

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

So, taking Forrest’s word as good enough, Alex climbed into the passenger’s seat and laughed despite himself when Buffy jumped in after him, choosing to stand on his stomach until Alex directed her into the backseat.

As Forrest parked in the Crashdown parking lot, Alex scanned the area.

“His car’s not here,” Alex noted.

“He’s coming,” Forrest insisted, unlocking the doors.

“He’s not coming.”

“He is,” Forrest smiled. “You’ll see.”

Alex’s brows furrowed, undoubtedly as he tried to understand what made Forrest so sure. Forrest couldn’t have told him.

They stepped inside to the scent of tomato and cheese, meat and fries, and Forrest’s stomach growled. “Man, I’m _starving_.”

“Look,” Alex pointed, “there’s a free booth.”

As they passed the other line of booths, a man turned in his seat just as they were nearing, and he tripped Alex. The airman was too exhausted and limping far too much already to stay steady, so he fell to the ground with a gasp.

“Alex!” Forrest crouched down beside him, helping him up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex winced, rubbing his right thigh. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

The man that had tripped him, a lanky piece of work with beady eyes and a scowl that promised nothing good, glared at Alex as if disgusted that they’d touched at all. “Watch where you’re going, freak.”

“How ‘bout you watch who you’re talking to, cowboy,” Forrest seethed, but Alex kept a firm grip on his arm, keeping him back.

“Forrest, it’s okay,” he said, barely shooting the man a sharp look before turning to his boyfriend. “Just forget it. Come on, let’s go sit down.”

Forrest turned his back on the creep, and he and Alex took their seats. “Has that been happening a lot?” he asked as soon as Alex ordered for the both of them and the waitress was gone.

Alex shrugged a shoulder. “Enough that I’ve started to notice, which isn’t often. When you’ve got a purple heart, no one has a single bad word to say to you, not around here.”

Forrest scoffed. “And that changes because of who you _like_?” He shook his head at the window. “I am so over humanity.”

Alex laughed. “There’s the emo angsty history buff I love so much.”

A smile tugged at Forrest’s lips despite himself. “I did say pissing off the bigots and homophobes would be fun. Gotta admit,” he sighed, “never a dull moment.”

“No,” Alex raised a brow, “‘dull’ never really _was_ my thing.”

Forrest held up his glass of water in salute. “You’re welcome.”

Alex’s smile widened, his cheeks red, and Forrest could already feel the anger in his chest dissipate.

“Oh crap,” Alex said and stood, “I forgot to ask for the milkshakes.”

“Uh, Alex,” Forrest glanced at the table where the cowboy and his friends sat, “let me go.”

“Stop making such a big deal out of it,” Alex said with a roll of his eyes. “I can’t be afraid to place an order because some loser gives me a funny look.”

“But –”

“I’ll be right back,” Alex said and pecked Forrest’s temple.

As Alex made his way to the front counter, Forrest kept his eyes on the cowboy. He seemed to be following Alex with his eyes, his scowl carving itself even deeper as the airman completely ignored him.

Forrest leaned over in his seat with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out what they were planning to do. The cowboy nudged his friend, gestured at Alex with his chin, then muttered something. He grabbed his glass of soda, wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and stood, making his way towards Alex, intent in his strides.

That’s when Forrest realized what the cowboy was planning to do. He knew because it had been done to him before; and this guy looked like he wanted to cover Alex in more than just the drink.

Forrest got up quickly and came around the other booths and tables, making his way to Alex. He didn’t know exactly what he would do when he caught the creep, but as he imagined Alex drenched and hurt and humiliated in front of the whole diner – the place he associated with friends and family, the place he was _supposed_ to be safe – he knew it wouldn’t be good.

The cowboy was catching up to Alex faster than Forrest could, trapped behind a rowdy table of teenagers. When he finally got around them, the cowboy was a mere few feet from Alex, holding his glass high over his head as if ready to throw it.

_“Alex!”_ Forrest called just as Flint suddenly appeared, grabbed the cowboy’s arm, and punched his jaw.

Alex turned with wide eyes just as Forrest reached him, but Flint was relentless. He straddled the cowboy as he punched him again and again and _again_ , until the cowboy lay there, bloodied and bruised. Finally, Flint pulled away only because Alex and Forrest grabbed his arms and pulled him back. Flint yanked himself free of their hold as the cowboy’s friends came to help him up.

Flint stepped close to the cowboy, apparently indifferent to the fact that the entire diner was watching the events with bated breath.

“You touch my brother again,” Flint warned darkly, “and I _will_ kill you.”

The cowboy did not seem able to mutter a response, but his friends quickly pulled him away as Flint glared after them.

After they disappeared and the other customers seemed sure that Flint wouldn’t start beating up anyone else, the usual activity of the diner slowly returned.

Flint ignored Alex and Forrest in favor of ordering a burger for himself from a startled and highly nervous waitress. Alex looked to Forrest with an expression that so clearly said, _Can you believe what just happened?_

Forrest wanted to say that he not only believed it, but he’d half-wished he’d joined in and started pummeling the guy himself. Not that that would’ve been very helpful right now.

“You’re bleeding,” Alex said as he scanned Flint’s bruised and red knuckles. He asked a waiter for ice, and Flint tore his hand away.

“I’m fine,” he said. “You have a booth or what?”

_“Flint,”_ Alex said more quietly. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“You _wanted_ to get hit?”

“I can look after myself.”

Flint stared at his brother a moment before he turned away and said, “You can barely stand, Alex.”

Alex clenched his jaw. “You think I’m weak because of my prosthetic?”

“No,” Flint said, “I think you’re weak because you don’t sleep or eat or ever consider where you are. Ever since dad died, you’ve gotten less and less cautious. You should know, better than anyone” – Flint glanced at Forrest and their linked hands – “that a Manes man is always in danger.”

“That can’t be true,” Alex said, but already, Forrest could hear the resignation in his voice, as if he’d always known Flint’s words were the reality and had managed to pretend otherwise for long enough.

Flint seemed to have sensed the same thing in his brother’s tone because instead of snapping, he pulled out his wallet and paid for the plate that was handed to him, and sighed.

“Doesn’t really matter now, does it?” he said, and Alex’s brows furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

Flint raised a brow. “Because _I’m_ here. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the universe doesn’t like us very much, and if you _insist_ on making life that much harder for yourself –”

“I do if it means I get to be with who I want to be with,” Alex said unapologetically.

“—then that means it’s gonna be that much harder for _me_ ,” Flint finished, and shrugged a shoulder, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, only for a second. “Luckily, I’ve always been better at weathering the storm than you.”

And Flint turned towards their booth.

For a moment, Alex said nothing as they watched him, then, “How did you know that he was coming?”

Forrest huffed a chuckle, staring at the side of Alex’s face, watching his brother with confusion and hope and the fear of both coloring his dark eyes.

Forrest ran a hand down the back of Alex’s neck. He really had _no_ idea of his power.

“Who wouldn’t come for you, Alex Manes?” Forrest said, and Alex turned to him, slightly startled by the blunt confession.

Alex’s cheeks turned red and he looked away. Forrest’s grin widened and he brought Alex’s hand up to his lips to kiss.

“Come on,” he said. “Always being right can make a man hungry.”


	214. Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has a bad day with his leg and PTSD, and Forrest and Buffy are there for him.

There was yelling coming from inside the bunker.

Kyle had offered Forrest a ride to where they were supposed to meet Alex and Michael, but the closer they got to the door, the more sure they were that the exes were arguing inside.

Forrest looked to Kyle and saw his expression was also that of concern and confusion. After all, Alex almost never raised his voice at Michael.

Forrest took the plunge, pushing the door open and catching the last bit of Alex’s sentence –

“… I’m tired of fighting about this, Guerin!” he was saying, and both he and Michael stilled when Forrest and Kyle stepped inside.

Forrest looked from Alex to Michael, brows furrowed. “Everything okay?”

Michael scoffed and turned away, and Alex shot him a glare before he turned to Forrest and nodded. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

As Alex moved a stack of files from one table to the next, Forrest caught his heavy limp.

Forrest came up to him. “What’s wrong with your leg?”

“Nothing,” Alex said and Forrest noticed Michael glance at him, unable to help the concern in his own eyes. Alex squirmed until Forrest was standing between them, apparently unwilling to let Michael get a good look at him.

“ _Nothing –_ hey, stop, look at me,” Forrest said, wrapping an arm around Alex’s waist to keep him still, his other hand holding Alex’s chin as he looked him over. Dark circles, hollow cheeks, red-rimmed eyes. Forrest frowned. “Did you just wake up?”

“No,” Alex said curtly, stepping out of Forrest’s hold. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Alex –”

Alex grabbed his backpack and stuffed a few files into it. “I’m going to finish these at home.”

“Fine,” Michael said with a humorless smirk. “I’ll come with you.”

“You stay here!” he snapped, and any trace of a smile, fake or not, vanished from Michael’s lips. “I don’t want you near me right now.”

His expression softened as he turned to face Forrest. “I’m sorry,” he muttered and kissed Forrest’s cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”

And he left, Michael staring after him, fuming, and Kyle and Forrest concerned.

Forrest rounded on Michael. “What’d you do to him?”

_“Nothing,”_ Michael grit out. “You can’t _do_ anything to Alex Manes. You should know, you’re dating him now; nothing _ever_ gets to him.”

_“Michael,”_ Kyle groaned, as if they’d had this conversation a million times and Kyle had had to correct him a million times. “What’d you say?”

“It’s not what _I_ said, it’s what _he_ did,” Michael said edgily, directing a glare at Forrest. He shrugged, grabbing his jacket. “But you heard him; he doesn’t want to talk to me. _Hey_!” he said brightly, hitting his shoulder against Forrest’s as he passed, “Maybe he’ll talk to _you_.”

Michael slammed the bunker door behind him, and Kyle and Forrest were left in silence.

Forrest shook his head. “What the hell just happened?”

Kyle was looking at him sympathetically, as if he knew something Forrest didn’t. “Yeah,” he sighed. “If you’re gonna be Alex’s boyfriend, you might want to get used to that.”

It wasn’t until after midnight that Forrest was dropped off in front of Alex’s house. He wanted to be there hours earlier, but thought that maybe Alex would’ve appreciated being left alone better.

“Trust me,” Kyle had said. “Anytime he fights with Michael, it’s better to leave him to cool down on his own.”

“But what if he needs me?” Forrest had argued.

“Not after Michael. When it comes to the angry cowboy, Alex would rather be alone.”

It didn’t sound right to Forrest, not after getting to know Alex as well as he did. He wanted to tell Kyle that maybe he knew Alex a little better than they did, that Alex pretended to be tough all the time but there were moments when he needed to be held and taken care of and this might’ve been one of them.

Nevertheless, Forrest listened to Kyle’s warnings and waited – on the edge of his seat and with his phone clutched tightly between his fingers in case Alex called, but waiting, nonetheless.

Forrest neared the front door, and once again, knew that there was trouble on the other side as he heard barking and scratching against the door.

“Buffy?” Forrest muttered, used the spare key to let himself inside, and was met with his beagle, bouncing around frantically, dragging Forrest further into the house by his sleeve. “Whoa, _hey_ , girl, calm down!”

But Buffy would _not_ calm down. She was desperate as she ran into the corridor, then back out, and in her dark eyes, Forrest could almost hear her say, _Would you hurry up already?! This is important!_

Forrest looked around; the lights were on but he couldn’t hear Alex awake, and Alex was _always_ awake by now. At the very least, Buffy’s barking should’ve woken him up.

“Babe?” he called and was met with no response. “Alex,” he tried again. Buffy jumped, barking wildly.

_That’s what I’m trying to tell you! Come on!_

“No,” Forrest breathed and ran after Buffy into the bedroom to find Alex, passed out at the foot of his desk. “Alex!”

He knelt beside him, pulling him into his arms. He carried him over to the bed, ran into the kitchen, grabbed a cup of cold water, and came back to sit at Alex’s side.

No sooner had he started dabbing the cold water over Alex’s cheeks and forehead that the airman’s eyes fluttered open.

“Alex,” Forrest breathed. “Hey, _hey_ , baby,” he kissed his forehead, then his nose, then his lips. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Alex croaked weakly, and leaned against Forrest as he pushed himself to sit up. “I’m… what time is it?”

“Late,” Forrest said, keeping an arm around Alex’s shoulders and the cup of cold water close in case he needed it again. “Come on, stand up, I’ll take you to the hospital.”

“No,” Alex shook his head against Forrest’s shoulder. “I’m fine.”

“Alex, I found you _unconscious_ ,” Forrest argued. “You’re going to the hospital.”

“I’m just tired,” Alex muttered against Forrest’s shoulder, wrapping an arm tightly around his waist as if he feared that Forrest would disappear. “I haven’t been sleeping.”

Forrest frowned. “Is that why you and Michael were arguing?”

Alex heaved a deep sigh and was quiet for a long time. Just when Forrest thought he might’ve fallen asleep, or was pretending to avoid having to answer, he said, in a voice barely over a whisper, “Sort of.”

He leaned back enough so that they could properly see each other. “I… fell asleep at the bunker. I was alone, it was dark… I was so _tired_ …. Then Michael showed up, and I guess…” he huffed, rubbing his eyes furiously, “he told me I said your name in my sleep.”

Forrest blinked, his heart skipping a beat at the thought. “ _My_ name?”

Alex nodded, avoiding Forrest’s eyes. “Anyway, he… he got annoyed with me, asked me why I was falling asleep at the bunker, if my leg still hurt. He asked me if I was still having nightmares, and… and why I called for you instead of him.”

Forrest said nothing as Alex inhaled shakily. “I don’t know why,” he confessed. “I just wanted you.”

Forrest sighed, holding Alex tighter. “No wonder he was so upset.”

“He’s so good, I swear,” Alex said in a voice barely over a whisper. “He was just worried about me.”

“I believe you,” Forrest said softly, and kissed the top of his head.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at him.”

“It’s not Michael’s job to look after you anymore,” Forrest said. “It’s mine. You just… defended your boyfriend’s honor.”

Alex chuckled wearily, pressing his face into Forrest’s shoulder. “You’re such a loser.”

Forrest grinned. “Thank you.” He ran a hand up and down Alex’s back. “Come on, Cap. Lie down, let’s get some sleep.”

Alex’s hand on Forrest’s waist tightened, but Forrest pulled it up to his lips and kissed it. “I’m right here,” he whispered. “I’m not leaving you.”

Alex paused, then nodded slowly before he let Forrest pull them down. He looked so unsure that Forrest couldn’t help but wonder how many times others must’ve promised him they would always be there and vanished. He hugged Alex tighter.

“When you wake up,” he whispered against Alex’s hair, “I’ll be here.”

As Forrest’s eyes closed, inhaling Alex’s scent, Buffy curled on Alex’s other side as if determined to guard him from all angles, Forrest heard Alex’s soft response.

“I believe you.”


	215. Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forrest meets Alex's brothers.

“Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“You’ve fixed that collar three times already,” Alex said, trying very hard not to laugh as Forrest blushed in the passenger’s seat. “You’re nervous.”

Forrest dropped his hands, fidgeting nervously with his rings instead. “Maybe we should go back. I need to change. I just realized I’m wearing way too much black. How could you not tell me I’m wearing this much black?”

“I think you look sexy in black,” Alex said.

“I’m meeting your family, Alex,” Forrest said. “ _Sexy_ is not the way to go when you meet your boyfriend’s family.”

“You’ll have to forgive my lack of boyfriend etiquette then – I’ve never given a crap to what I look like around Wyatt Long.”

“And that’s why I love you,” Forrest said. “But your family’s different.”

“How come?”

“Because I’ve met your _friends_ , and they always give me a look like they can’t believe I’m still around,” he said dryly, and Alex’s smile dimmed. “I really don’t want to get that look from the other Manes men.”

“And you won’t, okay?” Alex promised him. “I’ve already told my brothers all about you. I’m pretty sure the only thing that’ll startle them is if I show up with someone else. Now,” he covered Forrest’s hand with his own. “Are you ready?”

Forrest was looking out the window, scanning Gregory’s home and the closed door, but his hand turned under Alex’s and gripped his fingers. “Uh…”

“You know I’ll date you either way, right?” Alex teased. “If you don’t want to do this –”

“What, so Alien Guy can say he’s met your brothers and I haven’t?” Forrest scoffed. “No. Nice try, Manes. I’m meetin’ ‘em.”

This time Alex did laugh. “Well, you’ll see. They’ll love you as much as I do.”

“And how much _do_ you love me?” Forrest asked, brow raised.

“Enough not to kiss you in front of my brother’s house,” Alex said as he leaned in to hover his lips above Forrest’s. And despite what he said, he did peck Forrest’s lips before moving back.

“Okay,” Alex said. “Come on, let’s get through this together.”

Alex saw Forrest visibly swallow and follow him out of the car. It was heartwarming, to see the guy who never feared anyone, who never seemed concerned about _anything_ , actually look nervous to meet his boyfriend’s brothers. Alex tried not to read too much into it, but his heart couldn’t help but do a flip as he thought about being so precious to someone.

Alex knocked on the front door, and instead of Gregory, Flint was the one who answered. He pressed his lips together in an awkward sort of smile at the sight of Alex, but when his eyes turned to Forrest, his lips pursed.

“This him?” he asked, gesturing at Forrest with his chin.

Alex’s shoulders fell. “I told you his name, Flint.”

“I thought you were joking,” Flint confessed and turned his back on them as he went back inside. Alex and Forrest followed, and Alex closed the door behind them.

“Greg!” Flint called. “Alex and his boyfriend are here!”

“Was – uh – was that a good start?” Forrest said quietly when they were out of earshot.

“From Flint?” Alex scoffed. “That was basically the red carpet.”

“Alex? You here?” Clay emerged, his dark hair tousled as if he’d spent hours running his hand through it. A habit both he and Alex had picked up from their mom. “Hey, bro,” he said, engulfing Alex in a one-armed hug with a beer bottle in his other hand.

“Clay,” Alex said and stood beside his boyfriend. “This is Forrest Long.”

“Clay Manes,” Clay shook Forrest’s hand, brows furrowed as he took in the historian’s entire appearance. “You’re not what I expected a Long to look like.”

“Yeah, well,” Forrest chuckled, and Alex was glad to hear a genuine relief in his voice when he spoke, “none of you are really what I expected Manes men to look like.”

“Manes men,” Clay sighed. “There’s a phrase.” He patted Alex’s arm and gestured to the large open window at the back of the room. “Greg’s out back with the grill. Come on.”

As they followed Clay, Alex nudged Forrest’s arm, raising a brow at him, silently asking how he was holding up. Forrest nodded as if he wasn’t at all worried, though Alex couldn’t miss the way he pressed their shoulders together as they stepped out into the backyard.

“Oh hey,” Gregory said, smiling over his shoulder at Alex and Forrest, then doing a doubletake. “Oh… _hey_.”

“You heard that, right?” Forrest muttered low enough for only Alex to hear as Gregory assigned the grill to Flint, and wiped his hands with a rag as he came up to them. “You heard that?”

“Hey,” Gregory said and wrapped his arms around Alex for a tight hug before Alex could reassure his boyfriend of anything. When Gregory looked to Forrest, Alex was relieved to see his expression nothing short of kind and welcoming. “Hi, I’m Gregory, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Forrest said, glancing at Alex. “Uh – if you need help with the grill, I’m pretty handy.”

“Yeah?” Gregory clapped his shoulder. “Cool. Then can you – uh – take over from Flint? I love the guy, but he burns whatever he touches.”

“I heard that!” Flint called.

“Kind of the point!” Gregory called back and began to lead Alex back into the house. “We’ll be right back with some drinks.”

The others waved them off, but Alex caught Forrest’s eyes before he was pulled inside. There was concern there, a jealous kind of concern that Forrest usually wore whenever the topic of conversation was about to turn into someone else. Alex wished he could promise him that he was going to come right back to him, but the door had already shut and Gregory was already talking.

“He seems nice,” he said as he opened the fridge.

Alex placed a hand on his hip and tilted his head. “Go ahead,” he said. “Whatever you want to say, better get it out now.”

Gregory shrugged. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

Alex considered this. “Good.”

“Except –”

“ _There_ it is,” Alex chuckled, and Gregory huffed a smile.

“It’s just that… I thought you and that cowboy guy – what’s his name? – _Michael_ were a thing,” Gregory said. Alex couldn’t detect any judgement or critique in his voice; only concern for his brother’s happiness. “Is that over already?”

Alex sighed and crossed his arms. “It was never really a thing to begin with. Not after he started dating Maria.”

“Maria,” Gregory’s brows furrowed. “Like… Maria DeLuca? Your best friend Maria – _that_ Maria? Wait, I…” he shook his head. “Your friends didn’t know you liked him?”

“They knew,” Alex nodded slowly, considering how to best approach this conversation. He remembered a time when it used to kill him to talk about Michael and the way he’d chosen someone else because it was easier; the way he and everyone else had turned their backs on him because… well, he still didn’t really understand why. He guessed it was better not knowing than to just assume that he didn’t matter to these people that were meant to love him.

But now, things were different. Now, Alex could tell Gregory how Michael had told him to come back only to go to Maria instead, and how Maria had promised him it had meant nothing (a blatant lie), then of Michael’s rejection of him because he was associated with too many painful memories – and the most it did was leave a sting in his chest.

“What about the song?” Gregory asked at the end of it all. “The one you sang at Open Mic Night, I mean… that was about Guerin, wasn’t it? What’d he say to that?”

“Nothing,” Alex shrugged, and oddly enough, he felt like he wanted to laugh. “He never stuck around to hear the rest of it.”

Gregory shook his head. “Alex –”

“It’s okay.”

“He’s an _asshole_ ,” Gregory said. “I can’t _believe_ I…” He pointed his beer bottle at the open window where Forrest was showing Clay and Flint how he grills the steaks, and asked, “What about him?”

Alex laughed. “What _about_ him?”

“Is he good to you?” Gregory asked, and Alex smiled despite his red cheeks. “Because if he’s saying some of the crap Guerin’s said to you, then –”

“Greg, _look_ at me,” Alex said gently. “What do you think?”

Gregory inhaled slowly as he took Alex in, and – _slowly_ – the tension in his shoulders and the hard lines of his frown softened. “I think… I’m just relieved to know you’re done with macho cowboys.”

Alex scoffed. “As long as he doesn’t date any of my friends, he’s perfect.”

“Bar’s pretty low then.”

“He’s also a poet.”

Gregory whistled appreciatively. “Nice touch.” He tilted his head at Forrest outside his window. “Well, hey, _I_ like him.”

Alex turned to look at Forrest as Gregory handed him two bottles, and as he watched his boyfriend laugh with his brothers, his heart expanded in his chest.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softer than he could help it being. “Me, too.”


	216. Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forrest takes care of a sick Alex.

“Lie down!”

“I don’t need to lie down!”

“Yeah?” Forrest said, setting the tray in his hands down. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Alex squinted a moment. “Three.”

“Baby, I’m not holding _any_ fingers up,” Forrest said patiently and gently pushed Alex back onto the couch by his shoulders. “Look, you said you didn’t want to be in bed; you’re not in bed. But you have to follow _my_ rules now, okay?”

“This is ridiculous,” Alex huffed, turning over onto his back. “I’m not sick.”

“And yellow is totally my color,” Forrest muttered. He crouched beside Alex and pulled the blanket up to cover his exposed shoulder. “I know being taken care of isn’t really your _thing_ or whatever, but I love taking care of people. Specifically, hot airmen who I want to get better quickly so that I can make out with.”

“I’ll make out with you now,” Alex said weakly, his eyes narrowed at a point over Forrest’s shoulder. “Well, one of you anyway.”

Forrest laughed. “I love you, but I’m not about to kiss you when you’re a walking fever.”

_“I’m not sick.”_

“Are too sick,” Forrest huffed, pecked Alex’s cheek, and frowned. He pressed his lips to Alex’s forehead, touched his neck, and went to get the thermometer. “You’re getting warmer. Here” – he stuck the thermometer into a defiant Alex’s mouth – “keep that under your tongue while I get more ice.” He then pointed a warning finger at a nearly dead Alex and firmly said, _“Stay.”_

“Stop enjoying this,” Alex said.

Forrest chuckled. “I don’t enjoy seeing you so tired, Cap,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m just glad that, for _once,_ whether you like it or not, someone else can look after you.” When he came back to sit beside Alex, a soft smile tugged at his lips. “And I’m grateful it’s me.” He wrung out the cold rag and touched it to Alex’s forehead. Alex shuddered at the contact and snuggled deeper into his blankets and Forrest tried very hard not to wince at his obvious discomfort.

He leaned in and kissed Alex’s other cheek. “You’ll be better in no time, with me here.”

Alex mumbled incoherently. Forrest leaned his ear close to his lips. “What was that?”

“M’not sick.”

Forrest burst into laughter, falling against the couch and hugging Alex closely as he pressed his head deeper into the airman’s stomach. “Is this what it’s going to be like for the rest of our lives? You’re just going to ignore the blatantly obvious even if it kills you?”

Alex said nothing a moment, and Forrest feared he had gone too far. After all, they had never really talked about being together forever or what kind of relationship this was, but… Forrest couldn’t help it. He couldn’t imagine himself ever being with anyone else, and try as he might to deny it, there was only so long one could last without admitting the truth; there was no moving on after Alex Manes.

He didn’t even _want_ to find anyone else, and while he hadn’t expected to fall this hard and this quickly for the airman, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to bear it if Alex decided to end things. Maybe, Forrest feared, he was considering it now.

“You knew what you were signing up for,” Alex suddenly grumbled as if just gaining the strength for it.

Forrest turned to rest his cheek on Alex’s waist, one hand on the back of Alex’s knees, the other on the top of his head, his fingers raking through the soft brown strands.

“I didn’t,” Forrest said. “I’m so confused. Everyone said you’d be a breeze to deal with.”

Alex laughed hoarsely, turning to stuff his face in the couch cushions. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Alex smiled, and Forrest’s heart leapt.

“Fine, I’m lying,” Forrest said. “But I don’t care, because I love you. And I’m willing to put up with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Alex scoffed faintly. “You want out of this, _you’ll_ have to dump _me,_ because I’m never breaking up with you.”

Forrest swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to will down the blush in his cheeks, but he couldn’t manage it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Never,” Alex’s words turned to a mutter, his eyes fluttering shut. “Never, never, never….”

Forrest watched the airman until he drifted off to sleep, his cheeks and nose rosy from the fever, his lips turned to a cute pout, his long lashes curled and his exposed hand shivering. Forrest finally pulled back and kissed the airman’s fingers before covering them up with the blanket as well. He checked the thermometer and found the temperature had indeed risen another degree.

He brought another few blankets and tucked Alex in tightly. He dipped the cold rag in ice water again, wrung it out, and covered Alex’s forehead with it before he kissed Alex’s cheek softly and went to the kitchen to make him some soup. As it simmered, he came back to check on Alex and found Buffy had curled on top of him, as if trying to warm him the only way she knew how.

“He’s safe with us, isn’t he?” Forrest said softly to Buffy as he crouched beside Alex, his hand scratching behind the beagle’s ear, his eyes on his boyfriend. Forrest leaned forward with a sigh, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his and Alex’s foreheads together.

“Yeah, he’s safe with us.”


	217. Malex & Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael walks in on Alex and Forrest having sex.

Alex had once joked about being in one of hell’s circles. Michael knew better.

Hell’s circle, the worst that could’ve been, was walking into Alex’s house to ask him about a weird coding he couldn’t crack, only to hear the airman’s moans coming out of the bedroom.

Michael’s footsteps came to a still as he heard a voice horrifyingly close to Forrest’s encouraging him to scream louder.

“I want to _hear_ you, baby,” he breathed, his voice only slightly muffled through the closed bedroom door.

Michael’s eye twitched, his fingers trembled, and the file in his hand fell to the ground, forgotten. He felt a lump in his throat and he stumbled back, Alex’s moans and Forrest’s grunts following him.

Michael pressed his hands against his ears. He could feel his heartbeat racing faster the longer he stayed inside, listening to Alex have sex with _someone else._ Someone else touching his airman, running their hands down his chest, his arms, his legs, his cock.

Michael flinched and turned to leave, to _run_. He didn’t stop until he was in his truck, and then he wouldn’t take his foot off the gas until he was back in front of the airstream. The truck was trembling, the glass shook, the ground was moving, as was the trailer.

Michael breathed heavily as he stumbled out of his truck and ran as far into the desert as he could.

“AH!” he screamed when his legs wouldn’t carry him any further, slamming his fists into the ground. The earth shook violently, sand rained down, and when Michael opened his eyes, he found himself kneeling in a crater twice the size of his airstream with cracks spreading out in the ground from the center.

Michael hugged himself tightly as he doubled over. Why was he freaking out? He knew Alex was having sex with Forrest, they were _dating_ after all. So why did this bother him so much?

_Because you didn’t believe that Alex could ever_ really _want to sleep with anyone else but you,_ a small voice in the back of his head taunted.

“Shut up,” Michael hissed, and the ground shook again. He shut his eyes tight, but Alex’s moans still echoed in his head, his pleasure coming from someone else. Michael hugged himself so tightly that his nails pierced his arms and bled. He wished he’d never gone over to see Alex today, he wished he could’ve gone on to believe that Alex would never so much as really _kiss_ anyone else, let alone sleep with them.

But he couldn’t, because that wasn’t the truth. Alex was sleeping with someone else, someone who wasn’t Michael, someone who could never cherish him the way Michael did.

_Someone that will probably cherish him_ more _,_ the voice mocked and Michael nearly screamed again.

He didn’t remember falling asleep in the crater, didn’t remember having an empty whiskey bottle in his hand, didn’t remember the raging headache and feeling as if someone had vacuumed out his stomach, stuffed it back, then emptied it out again. All he knew, as he woke up covered in dust and bruises from the rocks digging into his body the next morning, was that Alex was officially with someone else, was falling asleep and waking up naked with _someone else._

Michael forced himself up, trudging towards the airstream, though he couldn’t think of what he could possibly need from there. He wasn’t hungry, his body ached, but if he slept any more, he was sure he would never wake up again, and he didn’t feel like changing out of his clothes.

He’d barely opened the door when his phone buzzed in his pocket, waking him from his haze. He pulled it out, squinting at the screen for a moment before he realized who the text was from and nearly dropped his phone on the ground. He caught it just in time and opened the chat. It was from Alex.

_Can we talk?_

Michael swallowed, rubbing his eyes furiously before struggling to type in a response. Seeing Alex now was _all_ he wanted. Why would the airman be texting him the morning after he and Forrest had slept together? Obviously, there could only have been one reason; Alex was unsatisfied with other men. He must’ve known what Michael did; that they belonged to each other and no one could ever take their place.

Alex wanted to meet at the Crashdown, so as soon as Michael had typed in his response that he would be there, he was running towards his truck and slamming on the gas. He pulled up in front of the diner and spotted Alex through a window. He froze for a moment, taking in his airman’s appearance. Alex was wearing that blue flannel shirt Michael loved so much, with a dark hoodie and jeans. His hair was nicely windswept – _or as if someone had run their hands through it,_ the voice returned. Michael clenched his jaw and forced it down.

Alex was dressed, was here alone, and was waiting for _Michael._

Michael raked a hand through his curls, dusted off his jacket as much as he could, and went inside. He feigned nonchalance, putting his hands in his pockets as he made a show of looking around for Alex. His eyes caught Alex’s as the airman gave him a half-amused smile that said he wasn’t buying Michael’s act in the slightest.

“So?” Michael prompted as he slid into the booth. “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t think you’d show up,” Alex confessed quietly, his hands folded on the table.

“You asked me to,” Michael said, and Alex’s lips tugged into a smile at the reminder of his own words months ago.

But as Alex inhaled deeply, his smile fell to something more determined, as if he was preparing for battle. Michael wanted to reassure him right then that he had nothing to worry about; _of course_ they could give their relationship another chance. In fact, Michael was ready to drag Alex back to the airstream with him right now and touch him so desperately and so lovingly and so _deeply_ that anyone else’s trace on him would vanish.

Then Alex reached into his jacket and pulled out a file. And not just _any_ file, but the file Michael had brought over last night and forgotten behind.

Alex set it on the table between them and they were both left staring in silence.

“I –” Michael started, but Alex cut him off.

“You were there last night,” he said. “You left my front door open. A stray cat came in. It was an interesting morning.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I have a cat now.”

“I can explain,” he tried again, but Alex shook his head, his smile small.

“No need,” Alex said. “I get the gist.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “Are you okay?”

Michael scoffed and opened his mouth to say that he was definitely _okay_ , super _okay_ , not even a little bit _not okay_ … then his eyes filled with tears and his smile fell apart.

Alex pursed his lips and nodded, giving Michael a moment to compose himself again. Children, teenagers, and adults alike enjoyed the morning chatter and coffee while Michael sniffled in his booth, avoiding Alex’s eyes as he tried to gain control. After minutes – or it could’ve been hours – Michael huffed and rubbed his face with one hand.

“I didn’t think you’d…” he trailed off, but Alex’s eyes twinkled sympathetically.

“I know,” he said quietly.

Michael shook his head. “Was this… how you felt when… when…”

Alex raised a brow. “When you and Maria were together?” Michael winced and Alex leaned in. “Guerin, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Okay,” Alex sighed, “it’s not. This is going to hurt. I can’t stop that.”

Michael looked up, his brows furrowed. “You didn’t break up with him?”

Alex looked completely unsurprised by the question. “No.”

“Are you going to?”

“No.”

“But… but he’s not me.”

Alex leaned his chin on his palm, smiling sadly at Michael. “No, he’s most definitely not.”

“You don’t love me anymore?”

At this, Alex faltered. “You know that’s not true,” he finally said.

“No?” Michael scoffed, unable to help himself. “Please, Alex, you’re turning your back on me _again_.”

Alex said nothing a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know you don’t mean that. You’re just upset.”

“You’ve never stayed for me, but you’ll stay for some stranger –”

“That _stranger_ told me he loved me after a few months,” Alex said edgily. “You had _years_ and you gave that confession to someone else.”

Michael fell silent for a long moment. Then, “How did you know that?”

Alex’s shoulders fell. “Does it matter? Nothing you say is going to make it hurt any less.”

“I didn’t mean,” Michael shook his head. “When I said that, I didn’t mean it like I – like I mean it for you. _Alex,_ you’re so far beyond an _I love you_. What I feel for you is… it’s so much more than that.”

Alex nodded and sniffed. “You know, I really wish I believed you. And maybe… maybe if she hadn’t been the one to end things, maybe if you hadn’t said what you’d said, maybe if… maybe if I hadn’t had to spend an entire _year_ watching you look after her in a way you’d never done for me… maybe then I’d buy that this whole thing was more than you just trying to hold on to your second choice because your first one opted out.”

Michael frowned, his brows furrowed. _“Alex…”_

Was that _really_ what Alex thought of himself? A second choice? Michael’s _backup_? He tried to argue with the airman and tell him of all the times he’d fought for him, he’d cared for him, and… he came up with nothing. When Alex had been kidnapped, Michael had fought like hell to get him back… then he’d left him alone in favor of going back to his girlfriend.

“What?” Alex said without looking at Michael. “Nothing to say?” He sighed, turning to slide out of the booth, his disappointment evident. “Well, that’s a first.”

“Alex, wait, wait,” Michael stood, taking Alex’s arm. “Come on, this can’t really be how it ends. It’s _us_.”

Alex searched Michael’s face a moment, unfazed, before he softly said, “I love you, Michael.” Michael stared, his hands falling limp to his sides. The corner of Alex’s lips tugged upward slightly in a small, half-smile. “I wanted you to be the first to hear those words from me. I’ve tried being selfish, and I’ve tried putting your happiness in front of mine, and neither seems to make a difference. I’ve just never been worth it to you.”

Alex huffed a chuckle, a tear rolling down his cheek which he quickly wiped away. He smiled. “You asked me how I felt when you and Maria had gotten together. The truth is, Guerin, you couldn’t _possibly_ understand how much that hurt me. How I felt like dying every second of every day. How unimportant I felt. It was like I was _screaming_ my feelings in everything I did, and you didn’t hear me. Or _worse_ , you did, and you just didn’t care.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t know what that was like. And you never will, because I _tried_ fighting for you, and you turned me down again and again, and I let you _every time_ because I cared more about your happiness than about you being with me. Now, you’ll do the same. I’m not asking you to lower your walls anymore for me, Guerin, I don’t think you care enough to do that, but I am asking you to stop trying to hurt me.”

When Michael spoke, his voice was hoarse, a lump lodged in his throat. “So loving me hurts you?”

Alex leaned in and kissed Michael’s cheek, lingering. Horribly, Michael felt that he might cry.

“I told you I wouldn’t stand in your way,” Alex said, “and you didn’t stop me.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t true until you made it true, Guerin. I’m sorry it’s not the epic ending you had in mind.”

And Alex walked past Michael out the door.


	218. Malex & Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex comes to talk to Michael after he finds out about Forrest's proposal.

Alex sat with his back against the airstream door, his hand resting on his thigh, the silver band glistening on his finger. His lips tugged into a smile at the thought of Forrest’s face when he’d proposed with it, but the smile fell apart in the same second as he thought about the man hiding out behind him.

Alex reached up and knocked on the door. “You’re gonna have to face me sooner or later.”

He listened closely for any rustling, footsteps, bottles clanking, and was met with nothing. Michael’s expression when he’d found out about the proposal – the way he’d stood frozen to a stop at their table when Alex had told Kyle, unable to hold it in any longer – haunted him, playing on repeat in his head no matter how many times he silently begged it to stop.

He had nothing to be ashamed of, he knew, and yet…

“Guerin,” he tried knocking again, the afternoon sun beating down on him. Alex had been sitting out here since this morning, having followed Michael to his airstream in an attempt to get him to _listen_ , but the cowboy didn’t want to hear it, and Alex didn’t want to leave, so now they were just _here_ , each waiting the other out. But Michael was at a disadvantage.

“You know I’m military, right?” Alex said. “I’ve had training harder than this. I can be here all month if I need to be. _Longer_.” Alex knocked on the door again, harder. _“Michael!”_

No response. Alex sighed, twirling the ring on his finger as he’d tended to do after about hour three, when he got thirsty and realized he didn’t dare move in case Michael tried to leave without him and knew he’d needed a distraction. He was starving now, but his legs wouldn’t let him go, not while Michael was still inside, probably _purposely_ letting himself wither away.

Alex bit his lower lip, considering his engagement ring and how Michael’s eyes had fallen to it as if it was the evil snake that had bitten Alex and its poison had taken him away. Alex’s phone buzzed, and he was pulled out of his thoughts. It was a text from Forrest.

_Are you okay?_

Alex’s heart fluttered. He realized there was no need to lie about his answer or pretend he was something he wasn’t to please Forrest. His fiancé (Alex couldn’t _believe_ he got to use that word now – _fiancé_ ) would see right through him whether he was here or not.

_Worried about him. Do you trust me?_

The answer came not two seconds later. _Always. Do what you have to do._

Alex pressed the screen against his forehead, pretending the warmth was Forrest’s, drawing strength from it. _I love you,_ he texted back.

_I love you more,_ Forrest wrote and Alex tucked the phone away. He then took a bracing breath, pulled the engagement ring off his finger, and pocketed that, too, patting it down to make sure it was safe.

He stood and faced the door. “Guerin, come out.” Nothing. “We have to talk about this.”

The door suddenly burst open and Michael stepped out, his eyes red-rimmed. Alex, startled, realized that Michael had been crying.

“Why?” Michael snapped. “So you can tell me what I already know? You’re getting married to the weird Nazi dude with the blue hair – congrats.” His eyes fell, as if instinctively, to Alex’s finger. He scoffed, his eyes filling with tears. “Where is it? What’d you do, take it off so my feelings wouldn’t get hurt? Is it in your pocket?” He came closer, his entire body tense as if he was ready to either hit Alex or be hit by him. “Come on, take it out, put it on! PUT IT ON!”

“Guerin…”

“What do you want us to talk about, Alex?” he huffed, a tear sliding down his cheek before he roughly wiped it away. “You want to tell me that I don’t deserve you? That I messed up? That I could’ve had you and I got scared? That I wasted all my chances? Huh? You think I don’t know all of that? You think I don’t know how much you hate me for dating Maria? For telling her I loved her when I didn’t mean it? I know. I know ALL OF THAT!”

Alex wrapped his arms around Michael’s shoulders, hugging him tightly. The cowboy was trembling.

“Let me go,” he breathed. He was hyperventilating. “Let me go, Alex, LET ME GO!”

“Shh, _shh,”_ Alex tried, digging his fingers into Michael’s curls and holding him tighter, his own eyes burning. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here. I’m right here.”

“You hate me,” Michael said, his words starting to sound more like sobs. The ground, Alex realized too late, was shaking. “You don’t want to be with me.”

“I love you,” Alex whispered. “I love you so much, please, Guerin. Hold me, please, hold me.”

The earth stop rumbling and Alex soon felt Michael’s arms tentatively come around his waist, hugging him back. Alex pressed his face into the crook of Michael’s neck, inhaling his scent as Michael’s hold became unbearably tight.

“Please, don’t…” Michael choked on his sobs. “Don’t marry him. Marry me. I’ll – I’ll look after you, and I’ll love you –”

“I already love you so much, you stupid cowboy,” Alex huffed a miserable chuckle. He moved back, though Michael kept him close so that he couldn’t get far. Alex held Michael’s face in his hands, wiping away his tears with his thumbs. “Don’t you know how much I love you?”

Michael nodded and leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. “Marry me.”

“We’d kill each other,” Alex said. “When have we _ever_ had a decent conversation that didn’t end in tears?”

“I won’t argue with you anymore,” Michael promised quickly. “I’ll – I’ll listen and I’ll do whatever you tell me to –”

“Don’t you _dare_ change,” Alex said fiercely. “I love you the way you are.”

“I’ll be good from now on.”

“You’ve always been good.”

“I’ll protect you.”

“I believe you.”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to, Alex,” he sobbed, apparently having searched Alex’s face and found his answer already. “I swear.”

Alex hugged him tightly, nuzzling the crook of his neck. He whispered, “I want you to be Michael Guerin.”

“But you don’t want to be with me.” When Alex didn’t answer, Michael held him back tighter. “Don’t leave me, Alex.”

“You’ll always have me, Guerin,” Alex promised. “Whenever you need me, I’m there.”

“I love you,” Michael whispered against Alex’s skin. “You know I love you.”

Alex nodded. “I know.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You never will,” Alex said hoarsely. “We’re cosmic, remember? We’ll always be together, no matter what, no matter who we’re with. It’s you and me.”

Michael was silent for the longest time, then –

“You’re my soulmate, Alex,” he said. “I’ll never love anyone like I love you.”

Alex hugged him tighter, burying his face in Michael’s warmth, his heart hammering so painfully he worried it would jump out. The confession he made next was almost silent, but it existed in the space between them, for their hearts only.

“Neither will I.”


	219. Malex & Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex freaks out over Michael getting hurt, and Forrest notices.

Of all the ways Forrest had imagined spending his Friday night, sitting on a hospital floor across a closed room was not one of them.

But this was where Alex was, this was where Alex wanted to be, so Forrest knew there was nothing else for it. He had left to get his boyfriend a coffee and had come back to find him in the exact same position; staring at the closed door with an almost numb expression, as if lost in thought about the man lying asleep behind it.

Forrest nudged Alex’s arm with his elbow as he sat down beside him, handing him his drink. As Alex’s fingers closed around the hot cup, his shoulders fell slightly and he exhaled deeply as if he’d been frozen this entire time and was only now thawed free.

“Thank you,” Alex muttered but did not take a sip. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent, his cheeks hollowed out, his hair sticking out in messy – yet somehow perfect? – strands as Alex had run his hands through it more than once. It had been a weird night.

Forrest and Alex had been having a date in, lying on Alex’s couch, watching TV, Alex curled up on Forrest’s chest. Forrest had just leaned in for a kiss when the phone went off. Alex had said he would get rid of whoever it was, but even Forrest had heard the crying on the other end, had seen the way Alex’s brows had furrowed and his eyes had widened, how he’d put on his prosthetic and threw on his jacket, not bothering to change out of his sweats.

“Michael’s at the hospital,” Alex had said. “I – I need to go.”

It was only through sheer determination to go with him did Alex accept to have Forrest tag along. He had to be there for his boyfriend, didn’t he? He had to show that he wasn’t intimidated by Alex and Michael’s past relationship, for try as he might to deny it, Forrest wasn’t an idiot. He’d picked up on who Alex’s _long time ago_ was a while ago. The only problem was that he’d believed it was over.

Now, however, as he watched Alex clutch his cup tighter, his eyes on Michael’s hospital door, unseeing, an unpleasant reality settled in his chest. An answer to a question he hadn’t realized he’d been asking since the night Alex had stood in front of an entire bar full of cowboys and sang a love song to someone else.

“Hey,” Forrest tried to keep his voice light, brushing back Alex’s bangs from his eyes. Alex’s eyes fluttered at the touch and Forrest’s heart ached. _Bad timing_ , he thought. _We were always just bad timing._ “You should go home, get some sleep.”

Alex shook his head. “No, I – I can’t leave him.”

“He has Kyle looking after him,” Forrest said. “And his brother and sister are in the waiting room. Alex, you don’t have to be here.”

Alex said nothing a moment, then, “I can’t leave him.”

And despite it all, despite the twinge of anguish that washed over Forrest’s heart – because he’d really gotten to like this stubborn airman – he couldn’t help but feel a smile tug at his lips.

“I know you can’t,” he said softly. “Well,” he sighed, “Alex Manes, it was a fun ride.”

At this, Alex’s brows furrowed and he turned to Forrest. For the first time in hours, Alex’s eyes seemed to fall back into focus. “What?”

“I really loved getting to know you –”

“Wait, what’re you talking about? What’re you doing?” Alex asked.

Maybe it was just because it was the dead of night, but Forrest felt sad. He really saw a life with this guy, as short as their time was. Something had connected, he couldn’t really explain it, but…

_Bad timing._

He straightened his shoulders and, with his small smile, said, “I’m breaking up with you.”

Alex sat up properly, setting his coffee cup on the ground. “W-Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Forrest said. “By all accounts, you’re the perfect boyfriend.”

“Then _why_ are you breaking up with me?”

Forrest sighed, searching Alex’s face for any hope. And it was there, and that was the saddest part of all. Alex _did_ want him, _did_ truly like him, and yet… there was Michael, always there, in his core.

He groaned. “This would be so much easier if you weren’t so cute.”

“I don’t want to break up,” Alex said. “If it’s because we’re here, then… then, I swear, the second he wakes up –”

“Don’t,” Forrest shook his head. “Don’t force yourself to make that kind of oath. You don’t want it either.”

“I’m not in love with Michael.”

“Yes, you are,” Forrest said. “And I knew that, and I thought I could live with it, but… Alex, being apart from him will kill you, and I can’t live with that.”

“I don’t want to be apart from _you_!” Alex said, and Forrest fought back the desperate part of him that wanted to surge forward and kiss him.

Forrest rested his head against the wall and said nothing a moment, then, “Can you look me in the eyes… and honestly tell me that you” – he cleared his throat – “that you would rather be with me than him?”

Alex held Forrest’s gaze daringly, his chin jutted out in that stubborn way Forrest had come to like a little too much, and opened his mouth to answer. Nothing came out.

Forrest tried not to feel disappointed, but the thought of not spending anymore nights with Alex, of not waking up to his dark eyes and tousled hair after accidentally falling asleep together, of not being able to kiss him anymore or pick his brain or make him laugh or see his smile – it all kept the sad look in his eyes more than anything else had in a very long time.

Alex’s shoulders fell, resigned, his expression grieved. He shook his head. “I… Forrest, I…”

Forrest cupped Alex’s jaw and leaned in, kissing his lips softly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.”

*

Michael opened his eyes to white walls, white sheets, and a needle in his hand.

“Look at that,” someone said, and Michael looked over to see Kyle. “Sleeping beauty’s finally awake.”

“Screw you,” Michael croaked, and went into a fit of coughs.

“Serves you right,” Kyle said, even as he helped Michael sit up against his pillow.

Michael took in the IV strip, the monitors, and raised a brow.

“You know this is all useless for someone like me, right?”

Kyle sighed, writing something down on a clipboard. “It’s to keep up appearances. You have any idea how many nurses I’ve had to warn out of here? I did a blood test on myself to help your sorry ass stay secret, so how about a little gratitude?”

“Blah blah _blah_ ,” Michael rolled his eyes. “You got any nail polish remover?”

Kyle scoffed, and pulled out a small bottle from his pocket that Michael just _knew_ had been left for him by one of his siblings. “I wouldn’t drink that right now if I were you,” he muttered.

“And why not?”

“Oh no reason,” Kyle returned the clipboard to its place at the foot of the bed. “Isobel and Max are in the waiting room. They’ll want to see you.”

“They’re still here?”

“They’re not the only ones,” he said, and nudged his chin at the door. “Alex is right outside.”

Michael had just uncapped the bottle in his hands, but before he could take a single sip, he froze. “Alex?”

“Yep,” he said. “He’s been sitting out there since you were brought in. Hasn’t moved.”

Michael swallowed. “If you’re messing with me, Valenti…”

It was Kyle’s turn to roll his eyes as he opened the door and stepped out. A few seconds later, Alex came in, looking exhausted but thoroughly relieved. Michael slowly set the acetone bottle aside, not daring to make any sudden moves in case it scared the airman away.

“Alex,” he said, and came up short.

Alex was in his sweats, a hoodie thrown over his Air Force t-shirt, his hair a perfect mess, his cheeks rosy and his hands trembling. In other words, he was beautiful.

“Uh – Isobel called me,” he said, hugging himself tightly. Michael wondered if it was because of the cold or something else. “She and Max are –”

“—in the waiting room,” Michael finished. “I know.”

“They’ll be up soon,” he said. “You – uh – you want me to wait outside, or –?”

“No, stay,” he blurted without thought, almost rising in his bed. He sat back down and cleared his throat. “I mean, if I want to.”

For a second, Alex looked as if he might just offer to head back home, now that he’d seen Michael was okay, but he nodded instead. “I want to.”

He sat in the small armchair next to Michael’s bed, knees pressed together, still hugging himself.

“Are you cold?” Michael asked, and Alex shook his head.

“Does it hurt? Your head?”

“A little,” Michael admitted. “I’ll get better at it next time.”

Alex pursed his lips. “So you’re gonna try again?”

“I have to,” he shrugged. “I gotta access other parts of my powers, like Max and Isobel did.”

“It didn’t hurt them like it hurt you,” Alex noted, his brows furrowed. “I wonder why.”

“Beats me,” Michael said, though secretly, he had a feeling he knew _exactly_ why.

In trying to use his abilities, he’d been less focused on getting to know himself and his powers better, and more on being able to impress Alex, on getting him back, on his anger at Forrest – his mind had been troubled with too many thoughts, too much frustration, too much desperation to focus. In the end, he’d only hurt himself. Alex didn’t need to know that though. Michael’s troubles didn’t need to become his.

Still, it looked like Alex had enough troubles just looking at Michael sitting in a hospital bed.

“But you’re okay now?” Alex asked, his voice small. “You’re not in too much pain?”

Michael watched his eyes fill with tears and everything fell into place; his hesitation, the way he held himself, the way he sat – as if terrified that any slight move might shatter the cowboy.

Instead of answering, Michael held his arms out. Alex followed his movements and he huffed a cry before he stood and fell into Michael’s arms, wrapping his own around Michael’s shoulders.

Michael held him tightly as he cried into his shoulder. “Shh,” he whispered. “Baby, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Isobel was crying,” Alex breathed, “when she called, I – I thought –”

Michael held onto Alex’s waist more tightly, his other hand in Alex’s hair. Alex smelled of wood and maple syrup, just like he always did, but it felt like a millennia had passed since Michael had gotten to hold him like this. He buried his face in the crook of Alex’s neck, pulling Alex’s whole body in against his.

To feel his chest, his arms, his skin, his warmth – Michael felt so dizzy with his longing and desire that he thought he might faint again. When Alex pulled away, it felt as if Michael’s very soul was leaving his body, desperate to follow.

Alex wiped his face, sitting on the edge of Michael’s bed instead as Michael held onto his wrist, forbidding him from moving too far away.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said hoarsely.

“Don’t be,” Michael said. “I’d pass out a hundred times if it means we got to do that every time I woke up.”

Alex ducked his head. “Michael…”

Michael squeezed Alex’s wrist once before forcing himself to let go. “I know,” he said. “I shouldn’t talk like that. You have Forrest…” he faltered at Alex’s expression. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Alex looked away, hugging himself once more, though Michael was relieved that he wasn’t hurting himself this time. “He came with me,” he said, and Michael tried not to let his heart fall into his stomach.

“Y-Yeah? He’s waiting outside then?”

Alex shook his head, wiping at his face roughly, and Michael understood. He was happy, _so_ happy, and he felt guilty for it, because at the same time, nothing seemed worth Alex’s tears.

“Was it because of me?”

Alex scoffed and sniffed. “Yeah, it was,” he said, and Michael felt himself crumble only until he saw the airman’s smile. “Once again, Guerin, you’ve ruined my life.”

Michael felt himself smile as he searched Alex’s face. There was no hostility there, no hatred, no blame – there _never_ was. And Michael loved him. He loved him like he could never say.

“I’m always doing that,” he said instead.

Alex shook his head, and Michael hesitantly reached for him again. Alex bit his lower lip only for a minute before he complied, leaning into Michael’s embrace, his head on Michael’s chest as they lay in bed together. They held each other for the longest time, and Michael wondered if Kyle had taken his time getting to Max and Isobel, or if they all purposely decided to give him and Alex their time alone.

Michael was tempted to run a hand up Alex’s shirt, to pull him under the covers with him, to kiss every inch of him right here and now, but something in the way Alex sniffled and wiped at his face every so often told Michael he just wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy.

Still, that didn’t keep him from running a hand up and down Alex’s back, from pressing his lips to the top of Alex’s head, from sending his other hand down Alex’s side.

“Stop touching me like that,” Alex breathed against his collar. Michael’s hand instantly stilled.

“Does it bother you?”

Alex shook his head and moved closer to Michael so that he was completely curled up against the cowboy. Michael’s own heart hammered so painfully he thought it might jump out.

“I just… want to be here with you,” he confessed quietly. “Can’t I?”

Michael clenched his jaw, his eyes burning. _If this is a dream,_ he silently begged, _please don’t ever let me wake up._

“Yeah, Private,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms tightly around Alex. “Yeah, you can.”


	220. Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lazy Sunday morning.

Alex was so warm.

Forrest had heard rumors about the airman, his chilly disposition, the way he always stood with a straight spine, square shoulders, and a frown that warned against company. But since the day Forrest had known him, he had seen nothing but kindness, hidden joy, and golden _warmth._ Anyone who thought Alex was cold never lied on his living room couch with him curled up on their chest. Apparently, only Forrest knew what that felt like.

He brought his arm down Alex’s back and smiled as he felt Alex sigh deeply against his collarbone. He was wearing his Air Force t-shirt, but his cheeks were red, his eyes fluttering shut, and his skin was heated, keeping Forrest safe from the chill of the late September morning mist that was collecting outside the window.

“Hey,” he whispered against Alex’s soft hair. He pecked his crown when he received no response. “Hey.”

“Mm?” Alex’s eyes fluttered, his lips a cute, rosy pout. “Yeah?”

He sounded so much like a kitten that was startled awake, Forrest thought he would die. How had no one ever acknowledged how unbearably _cute_ this man was? He doubted anyone had because Forrest knew that if anyone tried to take his baby away from _him_ , he would’ve fought tooth and nail to keep him. _That_ was proving love; fighting to keep the man you want by your side.

Forrest pecked Alex’s crown again and he stirred, making that cute noise. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he murmured sleepily.

Forrest moved his bangs back from his eyes and kissed his forehead. “I love you,” he whispered against his skin.

“Love you, too.”

“I love you.”

“Love you.”

“Alex, I love you.”

“Hmm hm mmm.”

Forrest huffed a laugh against his hair and squeezed him until he made another noise of protest.

“Say you love me,” he mumbled against Alex’s hair.

“I love you.”

Forrest bit his lower lip. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“One more time.”

“No.”

“ _Say it_ ,” he squeezed Alex again and Alex laughed against his chest.

“ _Stop_ , let me sleep.”

“It’s the morning,” Forrest said. “You can’t take a nap already.”

“I don’t care,” he muttered. “You’re comfy.”

“I’ll get up then.”

“No.”

“I’ll get up right now.

“ _No_.”

Forrest put one hand in Alex’s hair, inhaling his scent deeply. “I love you. I love you I love you I love you.”

“I know,” Alex said. “You keep telling me.”

Forrest grinned and kissed Alex’s crown again. And again. “Hey.” Alex sighed. “Hey.”

_“What?”_

“I love you.”

“Shh,” Alex smushed his face in Forrest’s shoulder. “Stop talking.”

“But I love you.”

“Forrest!”

“But did you know that I love you though?”

Alex’s shoulders shook as he laughed. “Shut up already!”

“Say it back.”

“I already did!”

“Say it again!”

“I love you.”

“What?” Forrest squeezed. “I didn’t hear you.”

_“I love you!”_

“Good,” Forrest sighed contentedly, and pressed his nose to Alex’s hair, loudly inhaling his scent again. Alex squirmed, snuggling deeper into Forrest’s chest. “I love you more, Alex Manes.”

And Forrest could’ve sworn he felt Alex smile.


	221. Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle discovers Alex might leave Roswell with Forrest.

Something most people probably didn’t know about Alex; he liked to run. _Literally._

Back when they were kids, Kyle would remember looking around the school gate for Alex, only to see him come running up to him, drenched in sweat, his cheeks rosy, his hair plastered to his forehead and neck. More than once, Kyle had asked him who he was running from, and _every time_ , Alex had shrugged a shoulder, given Kyle a smile that convinced no one, and said, “The noise. But it’s gone now.”

Then they stopped being friends for a long while, but every time Kyle spotted Alex running down the street, or running into the school building, or running home even as Flint called for him, he kept thinking back to what Alex had said about the noise. He had wondered if Alex had meant the noise at home, the one constantly caused by his brothers and father.

But as they got older, and Kyle got to know this different Alex, he realized that _noise_ more often than not referred to the voices in Alex’s head. They had always been there, long before he’d joined the military, weighing all the options of his life, everything that could and _would_ go wrong that day. The first time Kyle had noticed it, Alex had had a big decision to make.

“Is it about me?” Kyle had asked. Alex had not answered.

The second, Alex had been older and Kyle had seen Michael Guerin lingering around him more.

The third was a particularly cold Tuesday morning outside his home. Kyle had come with a box of donuts and some coffees, hoping to have breakfast with the friend he hadn’t gotten to see in days. He had exited his car the second Alex came jogging down the road towards him, drenched in sweat. It cost him an entire week of leg pains, made him limp more, and left a searing stab in his side that he couldn’t get rid of for days, but Alex’s hair, chest, and back were soaked, his cheeks were rosy, and despite the chilly air, he was panting heavily as if the heat wave was about to kill him. And Kyle _knew_ that whatever decision he had to come to today was a big one.

“Is the noise gone?” Kyle asked.

Alex was stronger than he’d ever been, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his limits with his disability. He didn’t seem to particularly care about that today.

Alex took the offered coffee and shook his head. “Not yet.”

“You’ll kill yourself if you keep going like this.”

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” Alex said as he walked past him and opened his front door. When Kyle started to protest, Alex gave him a smile over his shoulder. “Sorry, I know you don’t like those kinds of jokes.”

“You’re right,” Kyle said, closing the door behind him. “I don’t.”

Alex settled the cup of coffee on the kitchen counter and grabbed a bottle of water, gulping it down in five seconds.

Kyle raised a brow, trying not to follow the beads of water as they left a trace down Alex’s strong neck, his collarbone, down his shirt. He wondered what Alex would do if he followed that trail with his –

“What’s wrong with you?” Alex asked, putting the bottle away.

Kyle rubbed his face, hoping Alex hadn’t caught the blush at his cheeks. “I could ask you the same thing. You haven’t been answering my calls.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said, and pulled his shirt over his head. “I’ve been having some trouble with Forrest lately.”

Kyle clutched the edge of the counter to keep from falling over on his stool. Alex’s chest was damp, his abs prominent, his nipples and arms glistening with sweat.

“Yeah?” he asked, surprised at the steadiness of his voice. “How – what kind of trouble?”

Alex sighed, stretching his arms over his head. Kyle was going to faint. “He’s going back to New York.”

Kyle looked up at that, meeting Alex’s gaze. “I’m… I’m sorry, man.”

Alex shook his head. “He asked me to go with him.”

Kyle faltered. “W-What?”

“Yeah,” Alex sat down, tapping the counter. Kyle’s eyes fell to his chest just once more before he realized that Alex did not look happy at all by the possibility of moving with his boyfriend.

“You don’t want to go?” he asked, the words bitter on his tongue. _He_ didn’t want Alex to go. He was sure Michael Guerin would’ve wanted it even less, even if he was too stubborn to admit it, but more importantly; _Kyle didn’t want him to go._

“I really like Forrest,” Alex said quietly. “I like the way I feel around him. I like the way he treats me… but _moving_? Living with him? I… I don’t know if we’re ready for that. If _I_ am –”

“Then don’t go,” Kyle said a little quickly, and Alex blinked. “Or – uh – you know, if you’re not sure, then it’s probably a no, right?”

Alex pursed his lips. “I guess. But does that mean it’s the end of us?”

Kyle hesitated. “Would you be heartbroken if it was?”

Alex seemed to consider this. Kyle covered his hand on the counter with his own. “Alex… if you have to _think_ about it, then it’s a no. There is no right or wrong answer here. If it was love, you would know.”

Alex shrugged a helpless shoulder, and in his half-smile, Kyle saw fear like he hadn’t seen since they were kids, and Alex had come nearly crashing into him as he ran through the school gates. “But he really likes me. What if no one else ever likes me like that again?”

“Michael likes you like that,” Kyle said, and instantly realized it was the wrong thing to say. Alex looked away, wearily rubbing his face with his free hand. Kyle often forgot that Alex didn’t believe in Michael’s love anymore; _hadn’t_ believed in it since the whole thing with Maria had started.

Kyle wondered if Alex knew how special he was, how utterly beautiful, how kind and compassionate and smart. He never got to hear it from Michael, and the one person that _had_ probably told him was leaving.

He tried to imagine a Roswell without Alex, and found it empty and cold. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed Alex’s council and kindness until he’d lost it. He hadn’t realized how much better his day would get after seeing Alex’s face, seeing his beautiful smile. He stood tentatively and rounded the counter to stand between Alex’s knees.

Alex looked up at him, brows furrowed. When Kyle took his face in his hands, he heard the airman gasp.

“Kyle…?”

Without answering, Kyle leaned in slowly, giving Alex the chance to push him away, but Alex seemed too surprised to do much of anything. Kyle took Alex’s lips in his, his eyes fluttering shut at the contact. For a long moment, Alex did not react, but Kyle kept kissing him. He kept thinking, _Any second now, and he’ll push me away._ But Alex never did.

Instead, Kyle soon felt the airman kiss him back, and he seized the opportunity, tilted his head and kissed him more deeply. Alex gave a little moan at the back of his throat, and Kyle let his hands fall down his damp chest, his stomach, and he wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist as the airman’s arms came around his shoulders.

Kyle leaned into him, their bodies pressed together, nothing but the sound of their wet lips parting in the middle of the kitchen. It was when Kyle stood, pulling Alex up as well and forcing him onto his bad leg, now more sensitive because of the run, that Alex winced and pulled back.

Kyle’s chin was against Alex’s forehead, the two panting heavily. Kyle wanted nothing more than to drag his hands up Alex’s back, to scratch the smooth expanse of soft skin, to kiss down his body… but he didn’t want to push his luck. Not yet.

He pulled back instead, standing straight, but staying between Alex’s knees. He cleared his throat. “So,” he said. “You know.”

Alex opened his mouth seemingly to answer, and he came up short. His shoulders slumped and he looked around as if wondering if he was dreaming or not, if what had happened _had_ indeed just happened.

Alex shook his head. “You want me to stay then?”

Kyle pursed his lips. “I mean… I can kiss you again if that’s any answer.”

“No, I got it,” Alex said. Then, “Kiss me again.”

Kyle wasted no time, resting his hands on Alex’s strong shoulders and leaning down to kiss him hungrily again. Alex’s lips tasted salty from the sweat, his skin was warm and tight, his body curving against Kyle’s as Kyle leaned in.

Kyle bit his lip and hesitated for only a second before he pulled his own shirt over his shoulders, too. Alex licked his lips as he ran a hand down Kyle’s chest, wrapped an arm around his waist, and pulled him in. Kyle moaned against Alex’s mouth as their nipples rubbed together, their naked chests, their stomachs.

Kyle’s heart thrashed wildly. He’d never been so turned on in his life.

“Keep kissing me,” Alex breathed, and Kyle groaned.

“Wasn’t planning on stopping.”

He grinded against him, his jeans against Alex’s sweatpants, his breaths labored as he felt Alex’s erection against his own heavily clothed one. He undid his buttons and pushed his jeans down. Was he thinking? No. Did he care? _Hell_ no.

Alex seemed just as surprised that he was willing to take so much off. He grabbed Alex’s sweatpants.

“Kyle,” Alex breathed, and it only spurred Kyle on. He tugged the sweatpants down, halted only by the stool. Alex sat up a little, allowing him to slip that and his boxers off completely.

“ _Ah_ ,” Alex moaned as Kyle pressed in against him. He knew he should’ve been a little more startled that he was grinding against another man’s dick, but all he felt was desire. “Take it off,” Alex breathed against his mouth, tugging at Kyle’s underwear.

Kyle wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist, and gently pulled him onto the tiled floor, dragging his own clothes over to use as a pillow for Alex’s head.

He stood above him and stripped himself completely. Alex raked his body hungrily and Kyle came down to hover over him, kissing him desperately. Alex lifted his leg and their cocks brushed and Kyle’s eyes rolled up into his head, his mouth hanging open.

“ _Alex_ ,” he groaned, grinding down. “Like that?”

Alex bit his lower lip so hard Kyle was sure he would bleed. “ _Mmh_ yes. Harder.”

So Kyle grinded harder, and pressed his lips to Alex’s in a wet, open-mouthed kiss. He had no idea if he was even doing this right, but it felt _good_. It was so messy, so heated, and Alex was so _sexy_ , it was impossible to feel like this was anything but perfect.

Kyle thought he could come just from the sound of Alex’s naked ass slapping against the tiles. Then Alex spread his legs wider and bit a soft spot under Kyle’s ear, and that was officially too much.

Kyle came with a loud groan and Alex followed seconds later, clutching each other tightly. They did nothing but pant against one another for several long minutes. Then, slowly, Kyle realized what they’d done and he pulled himself up. He offered Alex a hand and helped him up as well.

And there they both stood, stark naked, in the middle of Alex’s kitchen.

Kyle cleared his throat and began to look for something clean them up. When they were both dressed again, Kyle grabbed his coffee and mumbled something about his shift at the hospital. He was too busy thinking of Alex’s body, his lips, his eyes – about _keeping_ all of that – to really concentrate on anything else.

“Kyle,” Alex said as Kyle neared the door.

“Yeah?”

Alex had his back turned to him, his hands hugging his cup of coffee. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

Alex gave him a soft smile over his shoulder, a smile that spoke of a secret promise. “The noise is gone.”

Kyle couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his own lips. “Good,” he said, and opened the door.


	222. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael, Liz, and Maria realize there's no longer a place for them in Alex's life.

Michael found Alex in the attic.

They had come to Gregory’s house after the funeral, there were crowds assembled downstairs of military and otherwise sharing stories of the great Jesse Manes. Flint had been remarkably quiet, Clay had been holding down the fort, and Gregory was with Alex. Alex had an arm around his shoulders, their heads together as they muttered quietly.

Michael did not say a thing, not even as Liz and Maria came to stand beside him, but he knew Alex and Gregory had heard them come in.

“You gonna be okay?” Michael heard Alex say to Gregory. Gregory nodded, patted his brother’s shoulder and stood.

He barely glanced at Michael and the others before he told Alex, “I’ll meet you downstairs. Don’t be late.”

Alex nodded. “This won’t last long.”

Gregory ruffled his hair and went off, fixing his black suit and clearing his throat as he moved past them. Michael stepped forward as the door behind them closed, muffling the chatter downstairs.

“Hey,” Michael said, and Alex sighed deeply as he leaned back against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest.

“Hey.”

“You okay?” Maria asked and stepped forward.

“I’m fine, stay where you are,” Alex said. His tone was calm, but as he refused to even look at them, a chill passed through the attic and the three froze, not daring to set one foot forward.

Liz and Maria glanced at each other before Liz said, “Do you want us to get you some food?”

Alex shook his head. “Kyle already picked something up a few hours ago. Forced us all to eat.” He sniffed. “Said we would need our energy. He was right, I’m already exhausted.”

A tear rolled down Alex cheek but he quickly wiped it away. It made Michael think of all the times he had kept himself from crying in front of him – more so this past year. It made him sad. Alex didn’t _used_ to hide his tears from him.

“You want some water?” Maria offered, more hesitantly.

“Jenna gave me a bottle,” he said, and held up a water bottle from his other side.

“I saw Forrest,” Michael offered, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice. “People have been asking where you are, he’s been covering for you.”

Alex hummed, a small but genuine smile tugging at his lips at the mention of Forrest’s name. It took everything in Michael to keep from shattering.

“Okay,” Alex exhaled shakily. “I better get back down there.”

“If you need anything…” Maria started, and Alex nodded awkwardly, as if he couldn’t imagine what he could possibly need from any of them, and walked past her.

He left and Liz, Maria, and Michael were alone. None of them said anything for a long while, though Michael felt like he had a storm brewing on his tongue.

It was Liz, however, who spoke first, her voice faint as if she couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. “He hates us.”

“No,” Maria shook her head, her brows furrowed. “ _No_ , come on, it’s _Alex_.”

“He hates us,” Michael confirmed, leaning against the wall before he could fall over. Alex couldn’t even _look_ at him. He hadn’t reached out for him or leaned towards him as he always did.

“You guys,” Maria scoffed, though it sounded weak, as if she knew the truth and just didn’t want to admit it. “You guys are ridiculous. Alex loves us, we’re his friends.”

“No, Kyle’s his friend,” Liz said miserably. “Jenna’s his friend. Hell, I even saw him having a moment with Max downstairs.” She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “I can’t remember the last time we even _talked_.”

“I’m gonna go see him,” Maria said decidedly. “I – he – he’ll listen to me.”

“No, he won’t, Maria,” Michael said, rubbing his face.

“How do you figure that?”

“Because of all of us, I _promise_ you, he hates you and me the most,” Michael snapped, and pressed his mouth shut to keep a sob from escaping.

He suddenly felt so out of place, like Alex had gone on to have this whole other life and there was no room for him anymore.

_He_ wanted to go downstairs and see Alex, to pull him into a hidden corner and kiss the misery away, to hold Alex until he promised Michael he still loved him. But he knew that if he went downstairs now, he would find Alex being comforted by Jenna, held by Kyle, kissed by Forrest. None of them would let Michael anywhere _near_ him, because they must’ve seen what Michael so clearly did; he had broken Alex’s heart, beyond repair.


	223. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael hits his head and gets Synesthesia.

Alex had never seen Michael bleed that much before.

He was used to pain, used to injuries, used to having his skin sewed up and his bones dislocated and his muscles strained. But seeing Michael lying on the floor like that with his head in a pool of his own blood, _that_ was enough to shatter him.

Alex’s left foot tapped the tiled ground nervously. He felt Isobel’s hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see her giving him half a smile. The best she could muster.

Alex knew he shouldn’t have seemed so worried, but Max was pacing back and forth and Isobel more clutched Alex’s shoulder than merely touched it and no one had come to tell them anything about Michael and he was losing his mind just waiting here.

He stood. Michael wouldn’t have waited if it had been Alex who was injured. Michael would’ve stormed in there and _demanded_ to know what was going on. At the very least, he wouldn’t have wanted to leave Alex alone.

 _Sure,_ a small voice taunted. _Keep telling yourself that._

Alex shoved it down, inhaling deeply, even as he sat back down and resumed tapping his foot. After what felt like days, or it may have been minutes, Kyle stepped out. Despite the fact that Max was already standing, it was Alex who first spoke.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Kyle said with a sigh. “And working on my last nerve. He took a real hit to the head, luckily his skull is pretty thick already.”

“ _Kyle_ ,” Alex said, exasperated, and Kyle held up a hand.

“Sorry, sorry, thought it’d relieve the tension,” he said. “Look, he had minor brain damage, but the acetone’s already fixing it as we speak.”

“Will it give him any problems?” Max asked as Isobel thoughtlessly tugged on the hem of Alex’s jacket.

“He may start seeing spots, may have some trouble remembering what happened, but like I said, the nail polish remover is doing its job. Any side-effects should be gone by the end of the day.”

Alex nodded. “Thanks, Kyle.”

“Sure,” Kyle said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some alien MRIs to burn before anybody starts asking questions. Isobel, I could really use your help. With your mind control, I can be quick.”

“I _told_ you,” Isobel said, still nervously glancing at the hospital door. “It’s not _mind control_.”

“Whatever, Yoda. Come on.”

Isobel followed him with a roll of her eyes, and Max raised his brow at Alex. Alex shrugged. “We had a Star Wars marathon.”

*

Michael didn’t _need_ the bandages. He’d told Kyle as much when he’d woken up with a throbbing migraine.

“It’s a _headache_ ,” Michael had complained. “I’m fine!”

“ _You_ want to go out there and tell my colleagues why you came in with a blunt head injury and walked out healed? Now, stop whining, lay back down, and try to rest, _or so help me God,_ I will kill you myself!”

Michael huffed, scratching at the bandage with one hand and chugging down another bottle of acetone with the other. In truth, aside from a slight headache, he didn’t feel as if he’d been attacked by an evil clone of his brother at all.

Then Kyle’s phone went off, and Michael froze. It rang with a familiar song. Michael didn’t have the time to discern what song exactly because a wave of colors – gray and dull yellow – suddenly flashed before him. He winced and nearly dropped his bottle of nail polish remover.

Just as soon as the colors started, they stopped. Kyle had shut off the ringing with a groan.

“Geez, sorry,” he muttered, checking the screen before he stuffed it back into his pocket. “Forget to turn that off. You okay?”

Michael realized he was clutching his head and staring at the wall ahead of him. But where there had been faint colors only a second ago, there was now only white tiles.

“What – uh – what was that?”

“What was what?”

“The colors,” Michael said. “I saw something gray and…” but even as he said them, he realized how ridiculous he sounded.

Kyle, on the other hand, didn’t seem to want to mock him. His expression softened fractionally, a look Michael had no doubt he perfected while working with patients that believed they were detrimentally ill even when they were, in reality, perfectly fine.

“You’re still healing, remember?” he said not unkindly. “Your head suffered some damage, there _will_ be repercussions. Don’t be surprised if you saw a little more than a few weird things today.”

Michael slumped in his seat. “Great,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes. He made a silent vow that, the next time he saw Mr. Jones, he was going to throttle him with his bare hands.

“Stop whining,” Kyle said. “Max and Isobel are here.” He paused. “So is Alex.”

At Alex’s name, Michael looked up. He tried not to look too eager, but Kyle seemed to already have caught him.

“Yeah,” the doctor muttered as he headed towards the door. “Knew _that_ would cheer you up.”

Soon Max and Alex were coming in, Alex had his hands in his pockets, his head tilted slightly in that way it usually did when he was trying to look a person over for injuries and not let on that he was doing it. Michael tried not to smile as he thought of Alex worried for him.

“So?” he prompted. “How do I look?”

Max scoffed as Alex took a seat on the edge of Michael’s bed, beside his feet. Michael realized the armchair was free, but chose not to mention it.

“Funny,” Alex said quietly. Now that they were sitting so closely together, Michael could see the dark circles around the airman’s eyes, his hollow cheeks, the frown lines etched into the corners of his mouth.

His heart stuttered as he wondered how long it had been since Alex had slept.

“Kyle says you’re gonna be okay,” Max said. “How’re you feeling?”

_Just a headache_ , Michael almost said, and considered what would happen if he said he was all right. Alex would probably leave, return to Forrest who was probably waiting for him at their shared home. He swallowed.

“Like… someone bashed my head in with a hammer,” he said slowly, and Alex’s concern grew. Michael slumped his shoulders and leaned heavily on his pillows for effect, and his heart leapt when he saw Alex scoot closer to him on the bed, as if unable to help but come to his rescue.

Max gave him an exasperated look that so clearly said, _Are you seriously going to do this?_ Luckily, Alex didn’t seem to be paying him any attention, his eyes focused solely on Michael.

“Should I get you more acetone?” Alex asked and moved to stand. “I think I still have some bottles in my car.”

“No!” Michael yelled, grabbing Alex’s wrist before he realized everyone in the room was staring at him in silence. “Uh – I mean, you know, it doesn’t hurt _that_ bad. I’ll survive it… _I guess_.”

“Oh,” Alex blinked. “O-Okay. Then I’ll just… stay here.”

Michael nodded solemnly. “I think that would be best. Max, you don’t have to wait here.”

“Mmm,” Max hummed dryly, his lips pursed. “Well, in that case, I don’t think Alex really needs to be here either.”

“Alex stays.”

“ _Michael,”_ Max said through grit teeth. “He’s not a machine, he needs to _rest_. Same thing you should be doing.”

“He can rest here,” Michael argued.

“Where? You want him to sleep in the chair? And anyway, he hasn’t eaten either.”

“Um,” Alex tried. “Guys –”

“He can eat here, too!” Michael started and flinched loudly as Max’s alarm went off this time. The sound echoed throughout his skull, like there were loudspeakers placed in every corner, and then projecting out before him in a slide of colors, splashing against the walls and the people around him. Different shades of reds, purples, pinks, and white moving before him, creating wave after wave, like an ocean coming for him.

It took Michael a while to realize that Alex was shaking him.

“Guerin,” he tried. “ _Guerin_ , are you okay? Max, quickly, call Kyle.”

Max’s phone seemed to have been stuck because he was roughly tapping the screen now, silencing the alarm. At once, the colors around him began to fade.

“No,” he said, his voice ragged, though he couldn’t say why. “I don’t need Kyle, I’m fine, just… tell me you saw that, too.”

Alex and Max exchanged confused looks. “Saw what?” Max asked, and Michael shook his head, pressing the bottoms of his hands into his eyes.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” Michael whined low in his throat.

“Guerin?” Michael looked up as Alex put a hand on his shoulder. “Tell us what you’ve been seeing.”

Alex still looked concerned, but there was a steely expression beneath it, a resolve to protect no matter the opposition. Michael didn’t think there was anyone who could love as much as he loved Alex.

Michael shook his head. “It’s like every time any music or alarm plays, I just see colors jumping out at me.”

Max looked confused a moment, then he looked to Alex. “That’s not a real thing, is it?”

“I think it is,” Alex scratched his jaw. “It’s rare though. Something like synthe – syna – _something_.”

“Should we be worried?”

“Nah,” Alex said thoughtfully, his hand still on Michael’s shoulder. Michael tried his luck and tugged at Alex’s wrist. As he spoke, Alex moved to sit next to Michael on the bed. He seemed to hardly notice as Michael leaned into him, putting his head on Alex’s shoulder. “Kyle did say he had brain damage, but it’s healing as we speak. I think it’ll be gone by the end of the day.”

“No kidding?” Max whistled. “So you can actually see colors? What, like, coming out of the phone?”

“No, just,” he shrugged helplessly. “Everywhere.”

“That’s sounds so cool,” Alex said into Michael’s hair. “And terrifying at the same time.”

“Michael,” Max said, exasperated. “Would you get off him already?”

“He’s not complaining,” Michael argued.

“Guys –”

“Because he’s too nice to, but he _does_ have to get back to Forrest at some point.”

“You just had to bring _him_ up, huh?”

“Sort of, he is Alex’s _boyfriend_.”

“ _Guys_ ,” Alex cut in, laughing. Michael’s eyes fluttered at the sound, and he could’ve sworn he saw a shimmer of gold swim before his eyes. “I’m fine. Forrest knows Michael’s here, and he won’t expect me back until morning.”

“But, Alex, you –”

“Max, really,” he said kindly. “It’s okay.”

Max sighed, and Michael could _feel_ his glare, but he chose to cling to Alex’s waist instead, turning his face into the airman’s shoulder and inhaling his scent. He felt Alex chuckle, Alex’s arm coming around his shoulder, keeping him safe and warm.

“Okay,” Max said, rubbing his face. “I’m gonna go check on Isobel. Don’t worry about leaving, Alex, no matter what he tells you.”

“Got it,” Alex laughed, and again, Michael blinked rapidly as more gold and silver shimmered before his eyes.

_I wonder if . . ._

“Hey,” he murmured against Alex’s shoulder when Max was gone. “Sing for me.”

“What?”

“Sing that song you wrote,” Michael said.

“Oh,” Alex said quietly, and Michael slowly took his hand. He pressed Alex’s palm against his own jaw, and turned into the touch, inhaling his scent.

“You won’t do it for me, Private?”

Alex scoffed into his hair. Michael’s eyes fluttered and he tilted his head up a little more, until Alex’s lips were touching his forehead. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he and Alex were together, and there was no Forrest waiting for him to go home to him in a few hours.

“Getting a little too cozy, aren’t you?”

“Does it bother you?” Michael asked, and pressed further into Alex’s side. “I’m hurt, you know. I need you more than he does.”

“Guerin, you can’t say stuff like that.”

“I don’t care,” he said, and pressed his face into the crook of Alex’s neck. “Sing for me, Private.”

Alex said nothing for a moment, and Michael wondered if he would suddenly decide to leave, and Michael would be left in the cold again, only able to imagine Alex’s body against his. Then –

_Would you meet me in the middle?_

_Could we both stop keeping score?_

_There’s a battle I must fight alone,_

_It’s you I’m fighting for..._

Michael’s heart thrashed in his chest. He wanted to close his eyes to the sound, fall asleep to Alex’s song. He knew it would be less painful than staying awake and watching Alex leave, but as shades of gold, silver, and different shades of blue began playing out before him, Michael found he couldn’t look away.

As Alex sang, it was like entire galaxies were unfolding. Golden sunlight, the dust of stars, deep and pale hues of blue and purple and pink. He should’ve known that Alex’s music was unlike any other, Alex’s _voice_ a remnant of the planets that had come together to create him. He couldn’t tell Alex what he was seeing – he hardly understood it himself. But it felt like having lightning in a bottle, this moment. Alex’s voice in his ears, his music playing out before Michael in an array of colors that the galaxies couldn’t rival.

“Guerin?” Alex said softly, and the colors slowly began to fade. Michael realized he was clutching Alex’s hand too tightly, his other arm tightening around Alex’s waist.

He quickly let go, sitting up. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Alex said. “What’d you see?”

Michael shook his head. “I don’t know. But it… it was amazing.”

“Yeah?”

Michael nodded. A moment of silence. Then, Alex’s hand came gently around his head, and he was guided back onto Alex’s shoulder, their bodies pressed together at the sides.

“Alex…” Michael breathed as he felt Alex’s other hand in his hair, raking his curls back.

“I have a little more time,” Alex said quietly, as if embarrassed by his own words, but unable to stop. “I’ll keep singing.”

So he started again, and just as they had before, colors of gold, silver, blues and pinks and purple surrounded them, turning the world around them to something better than a rainbow, better than the stars, better than anything.

Michael hugged Alex’s waist as he listened, as he watched, and he realized, in an ironic sort of way, that the home he’d been working so hard to return to, the reason he’d been fixing that old spaceship for so long, had come to him now because of Alex.


	224. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael goes back in time and has a chance to stop Alex from enlisting.

Michael had no idea what happened.

One minute, he was in his bunker, tinkering with the spaceship, thinking about his latest argument with one particular airman (Michael had just about lost his temper when Alex reminded him that he was an Air Force captain, and that Michael didn’t scare him because he’d dealt with a lot worse). He had hit the console a little too roughly, and the next thing he knew, there was a bright light, a lot of wind, and he was suddenly sitting in a bunker that was his and not his at all. His schematics and graphs and calculations were all gone, the empty food containers had vanished, and – worst of all – his spaceship was nowhere to be found.

“What the…?” he looked around, expecting some evildoer to be standing behind him, their arms crossed and a wicked grin spreading across their lips.

 _“Aha!”_ they would’ve said menacingly. _“My brilliant plan worked! I’ve totally confused the alien!”_

But there was no one but the dust covering the walls and the molding cardboard boxes in the corner littered with cobwebs. This place had clearly been abandoned a long time ago.

Michael climbed the ladder up, and opened the hatch to find that his trailer was gone, too. He closed the hatch just as Sanders came trudging out from behind a car. Michael narrowed his eyes. Something about the old man looked different.

“Sanders!” he called, and Sanders jumped. His one eye widened as Michael approached him, arms out. “Where the hell’s my airstream?!”

Sanders suddenly held up his large wrench, his scowl vicious. “You hold it right there, boy,” he demanded. “I may look old, but I will beat you to the ground with one swing.”

Michael raised a brow. “Yeah, okay. What’s going on with…?” he trailed off as he took in Sanders’s appearance. There were strands of dark brown in his hair, his wrinkles weren’t so defined, and he stood a little straighter than normal. He looked… younger.

“How’d you get in here anyway?” Sanders demanded. “I didn’t see you come in, and I _always_ see who comes in.”

“Sanders,” Michael said slowly, pushing down his irritation. After his fight with Alex, he couldn’t really bother with patience. “I. Work. Here. Now, you wanna quit messing around and tell me where my house is already?”

Sanders stared like he was sure Michael was crazy. “You drunk or somethin’?”

Michael huffed and tried reaching for Sanders. “ _Walt –_ ”

But he was cut short as Sanders swung his wrench. Michael barely managed to dodge the hit, falling to the ground. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?!”

“You’re the one spewing all kinds of crazy, boy!” Sanders said. “How the hell do you know my name? I’ve never told no one! And don’t you even _think_ about lying to me, I’ve seen the news, I _know_ about West Mesa. I ‘aint playing around no more!”

“What are you… wait. _West Mesa?_ You mean the murders? Your old goat, those were eleven years ago!”

Sanders scoffed. “More like eleven _days_ ago. How much have you had to drink anyway?”

Michael frowned, his brain working quickly. The flash from the spaceship, the bunker as empty as it had been the day Michael settled in, the missing trailer, a younger Sanders not knowing who he was.

He sat up slowly, a lump in throat. “What… what year is it?”

Sanders blinked and turned his back on Michael, grabbing something off his worktable. “You really _are_ out of it.” He tossed a newspaper at Michael’s chest. Michael grabbed it and looked for the date. He froze.

“It’s 2009,” Sanders tilted his head. “Why? What year is it _supposed_ to be?”

Michael expected Sanders to be outraged at his blatant lies, a disbelieving quirk of his brow, maybe even a scoff. But as he told the old man everything that had happened, everything he _knew_ about his past, his plans to adopt Michael, how that had failed, his history with Nora, Sanders turned more and more silent.

“Well,” Sanders sighed when he was done, “I _thought_ you looked mighty familiar. Time travel, eh? That’s a thing in the future?”

“No,” Michael said. “It definitely is not. So either I’m brilliant for discovering it, or something in the spaceship malfunctioned and blasted me back here for some reason.”

“‘Brilliant’ is not the word I’d use here, kid,” Sanders sighed, leaning his wrench – which he had yet to let go of – against a stack of tires. “Time travel’s dangerous. You so much as _touch_ anything, and it’ll change the future forever.”

“How do you know so much about this?”

“Your mom was the careful kind,” Sanders said, rubbing his face. Michael very much doubted _this_ was how he imagined spending his morning. “Never left anything to chance. You pick up a thing or two about caution.” He sighed. “But why 2009? Why not sooner? Why not to the time Miss Nora was here?”

Michael shook his head. “I have no idea.” He crossed his arms and slumped back in his chair. “But the console resets whenever it’s been damaged, so… I don’t know, maybe whatever this is will wear off soon?”

“You don’t seem too concerned.”

“One problem at a time, Walt,” Michael said on a sigh. “Right now, I’m just worrying about messing up the future. Not that it’s not plenty messed up already.”

“No, no, no!” Sanders stood. “Don’t tell me, don’t say anything! The least I know, the better.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I’ve watched Avengers. The future might not change unless something really important happens.”

Sanders huffed. “The _who_?”

“Oh yeah,” Michael grinned. “Forgot.”

“Why were you beating the spaceship anyway?” Sanders scolded. “Don’t you know better than that?”

Michael’s smile faltered. “My ex. Said he didn’t need me. I got a little bit angry.”

“A _little bit_ , huh?” Sanders scoffed. “He an alien, too?”

“Nope,” Michael said. “Air Force captain. He enlisted right out of high school.”

Sanders said nothing for a minute, then, “Because of you?”

Michael looked up. “How’d you know that?”

“I know that look,” Sanders heaved. “That is the look of a guilty man.”

Michael searched Sanders’s face and pursed his lips. “It’s a long story,” he said. “I just… he suffers a lot in the future. His whole life is one big war that never ends. And it really starts when he enlists.”

Sanders grunted. “So soon, then.”

“What?”

“Soon,” he repeated. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you – _teenage_ you. The high school term’s almost over.”

Michael’s eyes widened. Alex enlisted at the end of high school. In 2009. He scrambled around for the newspaper, ignoring Sanders’s questions. His eyes fell on the date, and his heart turned to stone and fell into his stomach.

“ _Tomorrow,_ ” Michael whispered. “Alex enlists tomorrow.”

_I leave July 1 st. I need you to be there, Guerin. I really need you._

Michael let the newspaper fall as he ran. Sanders was calling after him, warning him not to do what he was thinking of doing, but it was no use. Michael would burn the world down to keep Alex safe, and the military was what ended up killing him. There was nothing he wouldn’t do. And this time, he _had_ to stop Alex from enlisting.

Finding his way to Alex’s house wasn’t hard. It never had been. Michael even had a way of knowing when Alex wasn’t home, so when he came running up the familiar road, he slowed to a still. It was noon already, and it was a Saturday. Alex couldn’t have been home, and he couldn’t have been with Liz either, not after Rosa. Maria was still mourning her friend, too, and Michael – well, _teenage_ Michael – was probably drunk and fighting somewhere.

Michael ventured to the toolshed. The last time he’d seen the damn place, it had been destroyed by him and Alex. Now it stood, a blatant reminder of everything that had happened. He couldn’t imagine Alex had gone there to find any comfort. No, his dad had _seen_ to that. But Alex never was one to try to comfort himself.

Michael swallowed as he rested his hand on the knob. Even when they were younger, Alex liked to stay focused, _driven_. The only way to do that was to remind himself of what he’d lost and what he could never lose again, no matter how cruel his methods.

That was why, when he opened the door and found Alex curled up in the corner, his face buried in his knees, he was not surprised.

Alex didn’t look up. He was hugging his legs, his grip on his arms so tight that the skin was bleeding. Michael swiped a hand across his mouth.

“Go away,” Alex said, his voice hoarse, as if he’d been either screaming or crying for hours. “GO AWAY, FLINT!”

Michael shut the door behind him, but Alex seemed just as tense.

“Alex,” he tried, and Alex looked up with a frown. When he saw Michael, he gasped and stood, backing against the wall. Michael couldn’t believe it. There he was, seventeen-year-old Alex with his chipped black nail polish, his ruined eyeliner, his gothic clothes and jewelry, and – Michael might’ve teared up – both of his legs. “ _Alex._ ”

Alex’s eyes were wide. “ _Guerin?_ ”

Michael huffed a chuckle. _Of course_ Alex would recognize him. “Yeah, baby,” he said. “It’s me.”

“W-Why do you look so different?”

“I can’t explain now. Listen,” he crossed the distance between them, startling Alex and grabbing his arms tightly. “ _Don’t_ enlist in the Air Force. Okay? Don’t do it.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “How’d you know I was –”

“Listen to me, Alex,” Michael said, shaking him slightly, _desperately_. “Forget about the military. You’re gonna lose your leg, and you’ll be under your dad’s rule for the next ten years, and it’s going to ruin _everything_.”

“Are you insane?” Alex squirmed. “Get off me!”

“You and I will never be together, is that what you want?!” he demanded, and Alex turned silent, shocked. “You’re gonna spend the next _decade_ fighting in a war you never wanted to fight.”

“S-Stop it –”

“You’ll never sleep again because the nightmares will _never_ leave you alone!”

“You’re crazy!” Alex tried to push him away, but Michael held on. “You don’t know what it’s like here, what _he’s_ like! You don’t know what he’s done!”

“I do know!” Michael said, and Alex shook his head as his eyes instinctively fell on Michael’s left hand. He froze.

“Your hand,” Alex whispered. “It’s healed.”

Michael looked down. The cloth around his hand had come undone to reveal perfectly healed skin. Alex fought himself out of his hold.

“You’re not Michael, get off me! LET GO!”

“Alex, _please!_ ” Michael held on tighter. “I’m from the future, I came back here to warn you.”

“Greg! Help!”

“I’m trying to save you, Private! The Air Force ruins everything between us.”

“No, you’re lying!” Alex screamed. “Guerin doesn’t care about me! He’s just like everyone else – he doesn’t care what happens to me!”

Michael stared. “You don’t believe that. Alex, I love you.”

Alex managed to shove Michael back a few steps, but Michael pulled him along with him. “You’re not the real Michael!” Alex screamed. “He wouldn’t try to save me again, not after what happened! And if I stay here, it’ll _keep_ happening!” He tried uselessly to free himself. “I have to get stronger, I _have_ to.”

“But you’re strong enough –”

“I couldn’t save him!” Alex cried, and Michael stilled. “Not against anything!”

“Alex –”

“You know where he was the last time I saw him?” Alex demanded. “A cell, drunk out of his mind and so bruised he looks like someone used him as a punching bag. It’s all because I couldn’t protect him.”

“You’re going to get _hurt_ fighting,” Michael said, but his voice sounded more desperate now than anything. “Don’t you get that?”

“I love him,” Alex said, his tone almost _insulted_. “I’d get hurt a million times over if it means I can be sure that he’ll never be hurt again.”

Michael clenched his jaw. “I won’t thank you for it. I never do.”

Alex searched his face, his own streaked with tears. When he spoke, his voice was cold and steady. “Well, you’re not my Michael.”

Michael released him, staggering back as if he’d been hit. Alex seized his chance and ran past him out the door, calling to his brothers. Michael barely managed to turn and call Alex’s name when the world around him turned to white, and the next thing he knew, he was back in his bunker. He was sprawled on the floor against the wall, as if he’d been blasted backwards by the console.

It took him a second to get his bearings, and he spotted his phone on the worktable. He checked the date. According to the time, he’d only been gone a few minutes.

Michael hurried up the ladder. He expected to find an apocalypse waiting on the other side, but everything looked the same as always.

“You done in there?” Sanders barked from across the junkyard. “We’ve got work to do, boy!”

“Sanders!” he ran up to him. “Listen. Do you – uh – remember seeing me eleven years ago?”

Sanders sighed. “ _What?_ ”

“Seeing me, like this,” Michael said, gesturing at himself. “I told you about time travel, and coming back from the future?”

Sanders said nothing a moment, then he smacked Michael across the head. “No more day drinking! You’re too young for it!” he grumbled as he walked away.

Michael considered his reaction while his chest ached with a heavy feeling. Had he really been thrown back in time? Or had the spaceship just knocked him out and made him dream the whole thing? He scratched his jaw.

It made more sense, and he knew it would be stupid to check, but something in him yearned to see Alex now, to make sure he was okay. He told Sanders he’d be right back, and, despite the old man’s shouting, he got in his truck and drove as quickly as he could.

His heart hammered the whole way, and when he parked in front of Alex’s house, it was almost leaping into his throat. He swallowed and stepped out. He knocked on the door and waited.

Alex answered in his sweats and pale gray sweater, his hair windswept and his cheeks rosy, and Michael wondered if he’d crashed the second he’d gotten home after their little fight.

Michael almost reached out, wanting so badly to hold him. All the anger he’d felt was gone, replaced with the longing and yearning that usually kept just below the surface of everything he did and said.

“Hey,” he said, his voice unsteady despite himself.

Alex frowned. “Hi. Did something happen?”

“Do you remember me coming to the toolshed the day before you enlisted?” he said in one breath.

“What?”

“Crazy guy,” Michael clarified. “Looked a lot like me? Told you not to enlist?”

Alex crossed his arms. “I think I would remember if you told me not to enlist, Guerin.”

Michael swallowed. _Dream it is._ “Would that have stopped you?”

Alex’s expression softened. “I don’t think so.”

“Wasn’t I enough for you?”

“Maybe I just wanted to be enough for you.”

Michael pursed his lips, his eyes falling to Alex’s leg.

_“I love him.”_

_“I’d get hurt a million times over if it means I can be sure that he’ll never be hurt again.”_

_“Well, you’re not my Michael.”_

“Alex.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Alex’s shoulders fell, his brows furrowed as tears filled Michael’s eyes. Alex had never stopped thinking of him, had never stopped fighting for him, for _them._ Michael remembered the day he’d enlisted, the day he’d made sure he’d get arrested. He couldn’t bear say goodbye, not to Alex. _Never_ to Alex.

“Hey,” Alex said softly, closing the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Michael’s shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Michael hugged Alex’s waist, burying his face in the crook of the airman’s neck. His hands trembled, and he held Alex tight enough that it should’ve hurt, but Alex never moved away.

Michael inhaled his scent, kissing his shoulder before pressing his face against his neck again, all the while Alex comforting him.

“Everything’s okay,” he quietly promised, protecting Michael in all the ways that mattered, just like he always did.


	225. Malex & Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael sees Forrest making Alex laugh.

Michael was an alien. What did that generally mean? It meant there was no such thing as surprises. He had decided that after bringing his brother back from the dead, there was very little that would shock him anymore.

That was, until he walked into the Crashdown one morning, Liz, Max, and Isobel chattering on about something that he wasn’t really listening to behind him, and he stopped when he spotted Alex.

Well, he said _spotted._ In truth, he had more _heard_ him before anything else. Maybe the sound had only been difficult to discern because it had been so _long_ since Michael had heard it at all, but Alex’s laughter sounded better than he ever could’ve remembered.

The airman looked like he was struggling to stay serious, but he’d keep bursting into laughter, his hands covering his mouth, his cheeks red, his eyes sparkling with tears. Michael’s heart climbed into his throat, and he felt a smile tug at his own lips. He’d never seen Alex in such good spirits.

Michael took a step towards him, smiling himself at the beautiful sight. If he could bottle that sound and keep it close to his chest for the rest of his life, he would. He wondered what Alex was laughing at, if he wanted any company.

Then he saw _him._

Sitting across from Alex was Forrest Long, nodding solemnly and speaking with his lips pursed as if imitating someone. Whatever or _whoever_ it was, it was making Alex laugh. And Michael hadn’t been able to make Alex laugh since they were seventeen.

“Hey,” Liz said softly beside him. She was staring at Alex, a smile tugging at her own lips. Isobel and Max were watching the airman, too, their looks grave, as if someone had died. “I’ve never seen him so… happy.”

And when Michael couldn’t think of an argument, of a time _he_ had made Alex laugh that much, of a time he had been able to make Alex so much as _smile,_ he felt as if his heart had fallen back into the pit of his stomach and refused to come back up to beat.

“What’re you doing?” Liz asked. Michael had been so busy staring at Alex that he hadn’t noticed Liz moving towards their booth. She gestured at the others to follow. “Come on.”

Michael was beginning to shake his head, but Alex was still laughing, his arms hugging his stomach, and Michael wanted so badly to sit next to him, to see his smile and hear his laugh up close, that he found himself moving forward, even with Isobel and Max staying behind as if giving him an out.

Michael hurried on ahead so that he could slide into the booth next to Alex and Liz would end up sitting next to Forrest.

“Hey!” Liz said. “What’s so funny?”

Alex wiped a tear, coming down to a series of giggles that made Michael want to reach over and kiss his lips. “Forrest was – he was – _ah_ , sorry –” he slapped his cheeks “—Forrest was telling me about this thing he read a few days ago.”

“Whoever said history was boring hasn’t had _me_ for a teacher,” Forrest said, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed behind his head. “No, but seriously, I’ve never met anyone who laughs as easily as Alex does. It’s kind of perfect.”

Judging by how easily and softly Forrest had spoken it, his eyes on Alex fond and something a little _more_ than fond that Michael would’ve rather not considered, Michael guessed Forrest hadn’t _meant_ to say that last bit. Whether or not he’d meant it though, it made Alex’s face even redder.

“I-I’m not—” Alex started, and cleared his throat, seemingly unable to help but keep smiling.

Michael felt like he was going to be sick. His fingers brushed the back of Alex’s, and the airman seemed to snap out of his thoughts for just a second before Forrest reached over and touched his cheek.

“My humble little captain, look how _humble_ you are!” he said with his lips pursed as if Alex was the cutest kitten in the world.

“I-I – uh,” Alex stammered, scrunching his shoulders.

Liz was smiling so widely it seemed like _she_ had been the one who’d been laughing her heart out earlier.

“It is,” she agreed, nodding, “kind of perfect.” She was staring at Alex and in her loving gaze, Michael could hear her thoughts; _I’m so happy that_ he’s _so happy._

Michael wondered why he couldn’t feel the same. Was there something truly so wrong with him that he couldn’t be happy to see Alex smile regardless of who it was with?

“Forrest,” Alex leaned forward eagerly. Michael couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him so eager either. “Tell them what you told me about the French revolution. Tell them!”

Forrest laughed now, seemingly unable to refuse anything Alex asked of him. “Okay, okay, so…”

As he talked, Liz and Alex gave him their full attention, but Michael’s eyes were blatantly on Alex. He wondered what the airman would do if he snatched him up around the waist, and took him somewhere far away. If _he_ tried to make him laugh so hard his cheeks turned red. Michael didn’t think the action would be welcomed.

Then it occurred to him; it wasn’t that he was bothered so much that someone other than him had made Alex laugh. It was that he wondered, if he tried it himself, whether or not Alex even _could_ laugh with him at all.


	226. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is sick.

“Alex, open up,” Michael called, knocking on his front door.

His knuckles were beginning to hurt, but he was relentless. He _knew_ Alex was inside, and was, for some reason, choosing to ignore him. But he’d given up on Alex too easily in the past, and he’d promised himself long ago that he wouldn’t rest until they were together. If that meant knocking until his hands were bruised and bloody, then so be it.

His only real problem at the moment was not knowing _why_ Alex was avoiding him. Everything had seemed fine a few days ago – _more_ than fine, even. They’d hung out at the Crashdown, he’d managed to make Alex laugh. He’d even made the risk of brushing his fingers against Alex’s, and Alex hadn’t pulled away.

Michael was sure things were only going to get better moving forward, but then he’d tried calling Alex the next morning to ask him to breakfast, and the airman had not responded. He’d tried calling again for lunch, then dinner, then breakfast again the following day, but still, Alex wouldn’t answer him.

Michael didn’t want to ask Kyle if he’d heard from him lately, knowing nothing would sting more than the knowledge that Alex was taking _Valenti’s_ calls and not his.

“Alex!” Michael called again. “Come on, I know you’re here.”

Michael soon heard shuffling behind the door, but he didn’t cease knocking. Instead, his knocks turned harder and faster, refusing to let Alex off the hook for finally showing up.

The door opened and Michael’s fist hit the air a few times. “Didn’t think you’d actually answer, to be . . . honest . . .” he trailed off as he stood face to face with the airman.

Alex’s eyes were red and puffy, his face red, his hair a perfect mess, and he had a blanket tight around his shoulders.

“You’re . . . sick?” Michael said.

“Well spotted, Guerin.” Alex sniffled, and turned his back on the cowboy. “You coming in or what?”

Michael realized Alex was talking to him a second too late, and hurried in past the threshold after him. He came into the living room to find a box of tissues, the bin next to the couch filled to the brim with them, and a steaming cup of tea on the table.

“Why were you yelling anyway?” Alex said wearily, his voice hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it in _months_ as oppose to a few days. “You know I can hear you, right?”

“I –” Michael started, and Alex sat down with a heavy _thump_ on the couch, his head falling back with his eyes closed. He was wheezing. “You’re really sick.”

Alex peeked an eye open. “You sound shocked.”

“Maybe I am,” Michael shrugged a shoulder, unable to look away from Alex’s sleeping face. “I . . . guess I never really thought you got _sick_. I mean, you’re Alex Manes. Nothing hurts you.”

Alex scoffed faintly, as if he didn’t have the strength for anything more than that. “Mm.”

Michael pursed his lips. “You want me to kiss it and make it better?”

Alex huffed a pained chuckle, and immediately went into a fit of coughs. Michael was at his side in an instant, rubbing his back soothingly. The coughs subsided, and Alex covered his face with his hands, heaving a shaky sigh.

Michael could not stop touching him. He ran his hand up and down Alex’s back, his heart hammering at the way Alex’s muscles went pliant beneath his touch. Michael swallowed and cupped Alex’s jaw and turned his face. Alex’s hands fell to his lap and his eyes fluttered shut. Michael’s thumb gently caressed his cheek.

“You’re burning up,” Michael murmured. “You want me to make you some soup?”

Alex shook his head, and Michael laid back against the couch as Alex leaned into him, his fist curled near his lips. His breaths were deep and punctuated only by the rare cough here and there as he slept on Michael’s chest.

“It’s so cold,” Alex muttered weakly, and Michael tucked the blanket around him and wrapped him in his arms even tighter, holding him closely.

“I’ve never seen you like this either,” Michael whispered against his hair, his hand still on his back. With every stroke downward, Alex inched closer and closer to Michael until he was almost on his lap. “I like it.”

Alex made a grumbling noise, his eyes still closed. “You like seeing me sick?”

Michael pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Alex’s head, and felt his heart soar when Alex didn’t pull away. “That part’s a nightmare. When you wake up, I’ll make you something to eat. But I like seeing you . . . want me.”

“I always want you,” Alex said, and snuggled deeper into Michael’s chest. “Stop talking. M’trying to sleep.”

A smile tugged at Michael’s lips. “Then sleep,” he whispered, and pressed another kiss to Alex’s head.

It wasn’t until a few days later that Michael had come back to Alex’s house with a fresh order of hot soup from the Crashdown. He was just considering asking if he should stay over tonight, to make sure that Alex could have him if he needed him, when Alex answered the door looking well-rested and not at all pale.

“Hey,” Alex said easily, and raised his brow at the soup. “Is that for me?”

Michael’s smile faltered. “H-Hey. Uh – yeah. You look . . . better.”

“Oh, yeah,” Alex said. Michael noticed he had yet to let him in. “I think that meal you made last night really helped me kick the last of this cold. I woke up today feeling so much better.”

“And the fever?”

“Totally gone.” He smiled. “Great, huh?”

“Yeah,” Michael mustered the best smile he could. “Great.”

He was happy to not see Alex sick anymore, but he also knew that Alex cuddling up to him had been brought on by the cold. Now that he was healthy, would he even let Michael touch him anymore?

“Uh,” Michael cleared his throat and held up his box of takeout. “I guess you won’t need this then.”

“Not right now,” Alex agreed. He took the bag from Michael and said, “Just a sec.”

He disappeared into his hall, and Michael didn’t dare follow. He didn’t know if he was allowed. He put his fingers through his beltloops, wondering if he should go home now, or wait for Alex to give him an awkward excuse of how busy he was today, and how they couldn’t really sleep on the couch together like they’d been doing lately.

Then Alex came out, shrugging on his jacket, and closed the door behind him.

“You ready?”

Michael blinked. “W-What?”

“To go to lunch,” Alex clarified like it was obvious. “You know, you took care of me these past few days, so I’m treating you. I thought we agreed.”

Michael pursed his lips and shook his head, his heart climbing into his throat. Alex was dressed up as if they were going on a date. Michael didn’t dare call it that out loud; he was afraid Alex might correct him.

“Oh?” Alex raised a brow. “So . . . you don’t want to go to lunch?”

Michael searched Alex’s face. Maybe it was the gradual disappointment sneaking into the airman’s features, the way his shoulders fell slightly, the way his posture turned more and more uncertain that made Michael say what he said next.

“Private, I’d _marry_ you if you asked.”

Silence. That was, Michael realized, probably the wrong thing to say.

Alex looked at him with wide eyes, startled. If ever there was a time Michael could’ve had the earth open up and swallow him, that would be it. He started to chuckle, hoping to play it off just as a really, _really_ bad joke. Alex didn’t laugh.

“So,” Alex said slowly, “you ready? Let’s go.”

He started to walk off, and Michael started to follow him. When they got into his car, Alex suddenly leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Now it was Michael’s turn to be startled. Alex was putting his seatbelt on, avoiding Michael’s gaze, but Michael could see his cheeks turn a dark shade of red.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Alex sighed. “You think I was so out of it these past few days that I never felt you kiss me? I’m paying you back.”

Michael blushed himself, but he smirked. He reached over and touched Alex’s lips, trying not to shiver at how soft they were. “You know, I snuck a few kisses there.”

Alex shook his head, but leaned over to take Michael’s lips in his. Michael was surprised that had worked, but didn’t dare say it as his hand immediately came up to hold Alex’s head in place, keeping him close. He opened his mouth against Alex’s, hoping to deepen the kiss, but Alex pulled away again.

“Do we have to go to lunch?” Michael breathed when Alex started the car. “I’d really rather eat you.”

Alex looked like he was trying not to laugh. They pulled out of his driveway. “Thanks for taking care of me, Guerin.”

Michael took Alex’s free hand and kissed his fingers, holding tight so that Alex couldn’t let go even if he had wanted to. He didn’t seem to have wanted to. “Anytime.”


	227. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds Alex's lookalike.

It was stupid. It was _beyond_ stupid, but Michael didn’t care.

He took his foot off the gas pedal after having slammed it the second he’d left the junkyard, and pulled into Alex’s driveway.

“Alex!” he called. “ _Alex_!”

He beat his fist against the door again and again, but when the airman answered, it was from around the house. Evidently, he had been in his backyard.

“Guerin?” his brows were furrowed with concern. “It’s four in the morning, what’s wrong?”

“ _Alex,_ ” he breathed and ran at Alex, wrapping his arms tight around his waist and nearly lifting him off the ground. Alex made a startled noise, his arms coming around Michael’s shoulders to keep himself steady. Michael was breathing heavily, his face buried in the crook of Alex’s neck. He inhaled his airman’s scent and tried to pace his heartbeat. Alex seemed baffled, confused, _afraid,_ but he held onto Michael regardless.

“Guerin, what _happened_?”

Michael shook his head and held onto Alex tighter. His warmth, his scent, his body, his smile, his eyes – they were all _Michael’s_. He tried to remember that as he felt Alex’s fingers in his hair, soothing and loving.

“I – I swear,” Michael pulled back only enough to look Alex in the eyes, unwilling to let go of him. “I didn’t – I didn’t think I’d get caught up. But then he – he looked just like you, I couldn’t stop watching!”

Alex tensed. “What’re you talking about? Michael, _what happened_? Was it Jones again? Did he make you see something?”

Michael shook his head, his breaths labored. “Pretty –“ he coughed. Alex held him close. Michael clenched his fist in Alex’s shirt, unwilling to let him move any further. “Pretty Little Liars!”

Alex blinked. A pause. Then, “What?”

“ _Pretty Little Liars_!”

“What, the TV show?”

“I was bored,” Michael shook his head. “I – I started watching just a few episodes. But those girls – they’ve got _problems_! Then this guy Caleb showed up –”

“Oh yeah,” Alex’s shoulders fell, the concern and distress fading. “I remember that series. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it. What about it though?”

“ _Caleb_!” Michael repeated. Was there an _echo_ out here? He would’ve thought the problem was obvious! “Alex, he looks _just like you_!”

Alex laughed. “What? _Caleb_ does?”

“Am I taking crazy pills? _Yes_! A-And he was kissing Hanna and – and doing other . . . _things_ with her –”

Alex sighed. “Guerin, please tell me you’re not here because you think Caleb Rivers looks like me, and it freaked you out that he was with someone else, and you just _had_ to come make sure that I’m still Alex and still only like one person. Please.”

Michael opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. _“Think_ he looks like you? I _think_ he looks like you? Are you kidding me?! You could be the same person!”

Alex pursed his lips, considering it. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t see it.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “ _You_ –”

“ _Michael_ ,” Alex cut him off. “Is that really why you’re here before dawn? Have you even slept?”

“Couldn’t,” Michael shook his head. “Caleb had this family in California – _you_ don’t have any family in California, r-right?”

Alex scoffed. “If I did, you think I’d still be in Roswell?” At the look on Michael’s face, Alex’s smirk fell away completely, and he said, deadpanned, “Terrible timing for a joke, I’m sorry. But seriously, Guerin, I think you need to rest. You’re clearly losing your mind.”

“I’m not!” Michael exclaimed, then, “You definitely aren’t into women, right?”

Alex laughed, and pulled Michael in against his chest again, hugging him tightly. “Stupid cowboy,” Alex whispered against his ear, and Michael felt the tension coursing throughout his body fade at once at the smooth and beautiful sound. “You know who I’m into.”

Michael felt his body finally relax with the all the hours he’d been awake. He held Alex tightly, nuzzling his neck, drowning himself in the airman’s warmth.

They stood for a while like that before Michael said, “I swear you look the exact same.”

“No, we don’t, Guerin,” Alex sighed into his shoulder. “For the love of god, just let it go.”


	228. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex pays Michael a surprise visit in the dead of night.

It was late.

Too late at night to expect to find Alex Manes anywhere near the junkyard, yet there he was, sitting in front of the airstream, his hands pressed tightly together.

Michael pulled up his truck, his brows furrowed. Alex squinted into the car’s lights only for a moment before he turned away. Michael turned them off, quickly sniffing his jacket to make sure he didn’t reek of the Wild Pony, and he stepped out.

It was only as he neared that he realized Alex’s hands weren’t folded, but that he was tightly gripping one with the other, his nails digging into his skin, leaving dark marks. Michael forced his eyes up to find Alex searching his face, his expression a little lost, as if he’d forgotten who the cowboy even was.

“Evenin’, Private,” he tried for a light-hearted tone. Alex Manes didn’t visit in the dead of night. He didn’t sit in front of the airstream instead of next to the bonfire, as if terrified that Michael would show up and he’d miss him. And he definitely, _definitely_ didn’t show when he needed help, which he so clearly did now.

“I . . .” Alex started quietly, shook his head, and offered a small, hesitant smile. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Michael’s hands fidgeted at his sides. He was yearning to touch, but knew he wouldn’t be allowed.

He smirked, playing for cool even though his insides were already screaming. What was this dread building in his chest? Why did even the ground feel so unstable all of a sudden? Was it really possible that Alex could change his entire world in one word, one _look_?

“So you chose me,” he said. “I’m honored.”

Alex huffed a faint chuckle, his brows drawing together as if he might cry. Michael’s smile fell away completely.

“Alex,” he tried again, softly. “What’s wrong?”

Alex said nothing a long moment as he surveyed their surroundings. Michael wondered if he was expecting an enemy attack, if his brother had just lost his temper on him as he tended to do nowadays, if maybe Flint had done more than just lose his temper. Michael clenched his fists. The idea of anybody laying a hand on Alex made his blood boil. But they weren’t kids anymore and Alex didn’t need his protection. He was an Air Force Captain, he was perfectly capable of looking after himself.

That did raise the question though; if he was safe, why was he here?

Finally, Alex stood. He limped towards Michael, his arms pressed stiffly to his sides. Michael wondered how long he’d been waiting here if his muscles were so tired. He hadn’t gotten a single text or call that Alex was looking for him. If he’d known . . .

Alex stood half-an-arm’s length away, looking as lost and afraid as he had the day he’d come to tell Michael that he had enlisted. Michael wondered what news could be worse. What could _possibly_ be so terrible that Alex couldn’t talk about it?

Michael opened his mouth to make some other snarky remark, hoping to make Alex smile, but then Alex closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Michael’s shoulders and hugging him tightly.

Michael was so shocked that he didn’t move. Alex _never_ hugged him, never reached for him like this, with such _need_. Alex said nothing as he buried his face in Michael’s shoulder, and Michael felt the smallest breath of relief against his clothes, piercing his skin even through the layers.

It was then that Michael realized Alex was crying.

It woke him up. “Alex?” was all he could say as he finally, _finally_ lifted his arms and hugged Alex back, one hand on his waist, the other coming up to rest between his shoulder blades. He’d never held Alex so tightly, not even when he’d found him after he’d been kidnapped.

Michael pressed their bodies closely together, his heart hammering for more than one reason when he felt Alex trembling in his hold. His cries were silent, but the feeling of tears against his shoulder and the occasional sniffling told Michael all he needed to know.

“I don’t know what to do,” Alex whispered, and Michael frowned, but he held on.

“Shh,” he said, bringing his hand higher to rest in Alex’s hair, his soft brown locks welcoming Michael’s fingers. “I’m here, I’ll protect you. It’s okay.”

Michael didn’t know if that was the truth. He didn’t know _what_ to believe. He had no idea what was wrong with Alex, and the airman had never come to him like this before. Not even when they were teenagers.

Michael guided Alex into a chair and got the bonfire going. He pushed his bangs back from his eyes and told him to wait for him. Alex had not looked at him, seemingly caught in his own mess of thoughts. Michael thought of all the times he’d known Alex to be in trouble, and couldn’t pull up a single instance when the airman had come so lost and afraid.

Michael’s hands closed on a couple of beers, and he stilled. Alex was hugging himself, his chin rested on his shoulder so that Michael could only see the back of his head. But even by his body language, Michael knew enough to tell that Alex was cold, desperate to leave and stay at the same time. Desperate to ask for help and run from it. Because of course he would be. Because Alex Manes _didn’t ask_ for help.

Michael let the beer go and reached for his water heater instead. When he came out, he had two steaming cups of tea in his hands, a light blanket draped over his shoulder.

He held one mug out for Alex to take. Alex started in his seat, as if he’d forgotten where he was.

“Thanks,” he murmured as he closed his hands around the mug. Some of the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease with the warmth of the cup, and Michael knew he’d made the right call. He set his own cup on his chair, pulled the blanket off his shoulder and draped it over Alex’s.

Alex said nothing, only pulled the blanket tighter around himself with his free hand, his other holding the mug closely against his chest, as if hoping to warm his heart.

Michael took his seat, trailing a finger over the side of his own mug for a while as they both sat in silence.

“You want to tell me?” he finally asked. “Or do you want to just sit here?” Alex glanced over before his gaze settled back on the bonfire. “We can just sit here.”

“Were – uh,” Alex started and choked on his words. He roughly wiped his face and huffed, as if tired with himself for being upset. “Were you going somewhere, or – or did you have plans?”

“ _Plans_?” Michael raised a brow and tried for a smile, but Alex’s unwillingness (or _inability_ , Michael thought more accurately) to look him in the eye was honestly frightening. “It’s two in the morning, Private, where would I be going?”

Alex’s brows twitched, as if he’d just noticed how late it was. “Oh.”

Michael stared. He sighed, unable to take it anymore. “Alex, _what happened_? Is it Flint? Greg? Did Kyle say something?”

“No,” Alex said quietly, still staring into the fire.

Michael turned in his seat so that he was facing Alex now. “Did someone do something to you? _Say_ something?”

Alex huffed a bitter chuckle, and Michael was shocked to see a tear fall down his cheek. “They all say things. All the time.” He leaned back in his seat, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his mug. “You should hear ‘em, Guerin. You’d laugh. ‘He was a great man. A hero. It must be breaking your heart that he’s gone.’” Alex’s smirk fell to something darker. “I can’t laugh. I can’t feel anything.”

Michael’s shoulders fell. Now he understood. “Jesse Manes,” he said, and the name carried like a ghost between them, keeping them apart even in death. “Here even when he’s not.”

Alex shook his head, pressing the bottom of his palm into his eye. He sniffled as another few tears fell, and it broke Michael’s heart. He slowly set his mug down, one hand on the armrest, gripping tightly. He wanted so desperately to hold onto Alex instead.

“I’m losing my mind,” he croaked, as if he’d been sobbing for hours. “I see him everywhere I turn, every place I walk into. The only time he’s not there is . . .” he glanced at Michael, and the cowboy understood right away.

_The only time he’s not there is when you_ are _._

“I’m – listen, Guerin, I’m sorry I’m bothering you with this,” he said, and Michael frowned. “I swear, I put up with it for _weeks_ , but I –” his lower lip trembled. “I haven’t slept in almost ten days, and I – I keep – it’s all because I can’t sleep, and everywhere people are either giving me their condolences or praising him and I couldn’t breathe –”

“Alex, _stop_ ,” Michael scooted forward so that his knees were almost touching Alex’s. “I’m not kicking you out here, and I wouldn’t have wanted you to go anywhere else.” Alex looked away like he didn’t believe Michael, like he thought Michael was only trying to make him feel better. And that was what hurt most of all. The fact that Alex could no longer trust that Michael loved him more than anything. Alex couldn’t trust that Michael loved him at all.

But he’d come to the junkyard anyway. That was how desperate he was. _That_ was how bad things had gotten.

Michael stood and came to stand next to him. He could now clearly see the dark circles under his eyes, his hollowed out cheeks, the way his eyes nervously darted around. Michael knelt on the ground beside him, and Alex looked over, exhausted but surprised. “W-What are you doing?”

Michael ignored him, reaching up to cup his cheek. Alex’s eyes immediately fluttered and he leaned into the warmth of Michael’s palm. Michael reached over with his other hand and ran down the length of Alex’s arm. The tension in his body faded away completely as Michael touched him.

Michael leaned in and softly took Alex’s lips in his own. He felt Alex gasp quietly against his mouth, then felt the moan at the back of his throat. Michael’s heart hammered in his chest as he swallowed the beautiful sound, the sound he’d been yearning to hear again since the last time he’d gotten it.

Michael’s own legs trembled, his body urging to be closer to Alex as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue in past the airman’s lips.

They kissed for what could’ve been hours, but still pulled away too soon as Alex’s forehead fell onto Michael’s. His eyes were dazed and he seemed to be staring at Michael and at nothing all at once. He was falling asleep. Michael almost smiled.

“You’re sleeping with me tonight,” he whispered against Alex’s lips. Alex tried to pull himself up, but it was too late to turn back now. They were drawn together, the stars were watching over them carefully, forbidding them from moving apart.

“I . . . can’t,” Alex breathed, though his forehead never moved off Michael’s, his eyes never left Michael’s lips.

Michael couldn’t keep away either. His mouth hung open, waiting to take Alex’s again. He tilted up, closing the distance between them, kissing Alex a little more roughly, a little more hungrily. A moan escaped his throat before he could stop it, not that he would’ve wanted to. He was enjoying himself far too much, he’d missed Alex’s taste more than he could put into words.

He wrapped his arm around Alex’s waist, tugging him down to the ground. He was willing to take Alex here and now, between the two chairs and bonfire. He imagined Alex’s naked skin cast into golden light and another moan escaped at the delicious thought.

But Alex seemed to finally be getting comfortable after weeks of exhaustion and misery, and Michael knew that there may have been something else his airman needed a little more than sex tonight.

He stood again, taking Alex’s cup and setting it on the ground, and without bothering to dust his jeans off, his held a hand out for him. Alex hesitated only a second before he accepted, his hands cold and soft against Michael’s warm, calloused ones. Michael tugged him to his feet and kissed his fingers, then his wrist, then his arm, then his shoulder.

He tugged at Alex’s lower lip with his teeth, and the airman’s eyes fell shut.

“C’mere, baby,” he breathed against Alex’s ear and pulled him along towards the airstream door, all the while kissing him softly, touching whatever he could reach, reveling in whatever bit of naked skin he could find.

When they made it inside, Michael sat down first and pulled Alex onto his lap, the airman straddling him. Michael had one arm around his waist, his other hand in Alex’s hair, pulling his head down to kiss him again.

“G-Guerin,” Alex breathed, and Michael groaned at the sound of his name on Alex’s lips.

“I’ll take care of you, baby,” he promised. He wrapped his arm more tightly around Alex’s waist, pulling him down onto the bed and hovering over him.

Alex’s eyes closed and he bit his lower lip as Michael kissed his jaw, down his neck. Michael licked his lips before he pulled Alex’s shirt up, kissing a trail up his stomach, his chest. He ran his tongue over Alex’s nipples, pressed his lips against his racing heart. He wanted so badly to touch Alex _down there_ , to pull his pants and underwear off and take him into his mouth, to hear him cry moans of pleasure, to _feel_ Alex’s length harden against his tongue.

But Alex hadn’t slept in too long, and if they were going to sleep together again after so long apart, Michael wanted him to be able to enjoy it for hours, to not have such a heavy heart as he was being kissed, to be crying because of joy and nothing else.

When Michael was sure every inch of Alex’s chest and stomach were thoroughly kissed and tasted, he pulled the airman’s shirt back down, and moved up to lie beside him. Alex didn’t seem surprised that Michael wasn’t taking it any further, and he turned to lie on his side as Michael’s arm came under his head, pillowing it.

Michael wrapped his other arm around Alex’s waist and pulled him in against him so that there was no space between their chests. Not wanting to let go of Alex for another second, Michael used his powers to pull the blanket up. Alex curled in against Michael’s chest, clutching his shirt desperately, as if worried that Michael would suddenly disappear. He didn’t know that Michael would’ve rather died than leave his side again.

“Sleep, baby,” Michael said against his ear before he kissed it. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Michael had no idea how much tension and fear there remained in his own chest until he felt Alex’s arm come around his waist and hug him tightly. He sighed into Alex’s soft hair, relieved.

“I love you, Alex Manes,” he whispered. Alex did not respond, but Michael didn’t care. He smiled. “I’ll tell you again when you wake up.”


	229. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds Alex after Forrest breaks up with him.

Alex hadn’t been answering Michael’s calls.

He hadn’t been answering _anyone’s_ calls since the blue-haired historian had kissed him goodbye. From what Michael could gather, Forrest had realized that Alex could only ever really love _one_ person, and he’d wanted the airman to have that true love instead of forcing himself to live with his second choice.

Everything had seemed fine the first week. Alex was going about his work at the base, showing up to invitations for a drink at the Wild Pony and breakfast at the Crashdown with a smile on his face – tired, but a smile, nonetheless – and whenever Michael caught his eyes with a curious raise of his brow, Alex would laugh like he thought the cowboy was cute for worrying. Michael tried to make a habit of it, if he got to hear that beautiful sound every day.

But Alex wasn’t taking calls. A few days ago, he started showing up late to the bunker, slower-paced and limping more. Whenever Michael looked over, he managed a small smile, but didn’t hold it. Michael had started to worry then, but Kyle had shaken his head at the concern.

“I talked to him,” he’d said. “He just needs some time.”

“Maybe I should talk to him.”

“I just… don’t think you should push it.”

“But if Alex needs help –”

“ _Guerin_ ,” Valenti had fixed him with a purposeful look that Michael thought was supposed to mean something. “I really, really don’t think _you_ should push it.”

Michael had not known what to say to that. The idea that anybody else was welcomed to talk to Alex but Michael himself left a gaping hole in his heart. _But no_ , he thought. They were all wrong. He and Alex had gotten better at talking to each other. Alex wasn’t upset with what Michael had done, he never really had been.

It was noon now and Alex had ignored everyone’s attempts to reach out to him. Michael was getting worried, and nothing anybody said to calm him down was working. So, with the thought that Alex had probably been _waiting_ for Michael to come see him, the cowboy parked in Alex’s driveway.

He looked through the windows. They revealed nothing. He could hear no clutter, no screaming, no work going on inside at all. It was as if the house had been abandoned.

With dread building in his chest, Michael stepped out of his car and headed towards the front door.

“Alex?” he called. No response. “Private, are you there? It’s me!”

Again, Michael was met with no response. He looked around. Alex’s car was still in the driveway, and none of their friends had seen him all day, so it wasn’t like he could’ve gone with someone else.

Michael tried the doorknob and frowned when the door swung open.

He clenched his jaw. The last time Alex’s door had already been open, he’d been taken. _Could it be…?_

No, that couldn’t be it. Kyle had _said_ he’d spoken to him, hadn’t he? But then, when Alex was involved, Michael struggled with reason and logic.

He went inside. The hallways were lit.

“Alex?” Michael called, but nobody answered. “Alex, are you here?”

Michael stepped into the living room. Nothing. He checked the bathrooms, the bedrooms… then he came into the kitchen and gasped. The floor, the counters, the sink and cabinets and fridge – they were all littered with glass and water and what looked like dark muck.

Michael’s mind jumped into panic mode. Alex. Where was Alex?

He was just about to run out to look for him, to call for help, to do _anything_ … and he spotted him.

Sitting against the wall with his knees pulled up to his chest, his eyes staring into nothing, was Alex.

“ _Alex_ ,” Michael ran to his side and fell to his knees, not caring that there were broken shards tearing through his jeans. His hands hovered over Alex’s shoulder and arm. The airman had scratches along his hands and cheekbones, there was a burn on his forearm, cut into only by a jagged scar.

“Y-You need a doctor,” Michael said, not daring to touch him. “Come on, Valenti can help you, we can –”

“I’m fine, Guerin,” Alex said with a sigh. He didn’t look at Michael, didn’t move or turn.

“You’re not _fine_ ,” Michael demanded. “Oh my god, Alex – did _you_ do all of this?” he spread his arms out to encompass the entire kitchen.

“I had trouble with the coffeemaker,” Alex said.

Michael clenched his jaw. “This isn’t funny.”

Alex scoffed weakly. “It’s a little funny.”

“You’re bleeding!” Michael stood, tugging on Alex’s arm. “We’re going to the hospital, _come on_!”

“Guerin,” Alex’s eyes closed. “Stop talking.”

Michael stood a moment longer and fell back to his knees. He searched Alex’s face, lost. “This is all because of Forrest?”

“I told you,” Alex huffed a chuckle. “It’s because of the coffeemaker.”

But Michael wasn’t smiling. He couldn’t. “You,” he choked. “You liked him that much?”

Alex’s shoulders shook, and Michael quickly realized he was laughing. “The stupid thing burned my hand, and I got a little upset!”

“A _little_ upset?”

“Fine, more than a little!”

“Alex, you – _listen to me_!”

“I _am_ listening!” Alex laughed harder, turning away from him. “Why are you getting mad at me?”

“I’m not…” Michael started, his words trailing away as Alex’s laughter faded to something sadder, something more broken, something that sounded tragically like sobs.

“Alex…”

Alex hugged himself tighter as he cried, sobbing as Michael had never heard him sob before, not in front of anybody. He wiped uselessly at his face as more and more tears fell, not caring about the blood dripping down his hand or the cuts as they burned into his skin. And still, Michael didn’t dare touch him, staring in shock as Alex wept.

“He was the only one…” Alex cried. “The only one that ever…”

Michael braced himself for the answer. The only one that Alex had ever loved? The only one that had ever really loved Alex? The only one that ever really mattered? Michael found all the answers equally painful.

When he found his voice, it was weaker than he’d ever heard it. “The only one that ever… what?”

Alex sniffled, wiping at his face only to heave another sob as if in spite of himself. “The only one that ever chose me.”

Michael’s heart fell into his stomach and shattered. His eyes burned. “Alex…”

“Dad chose my brothers. Kyle chose his friends. _You_ …” he shook his head, his brows furrowing as if just _finishing_ that sentence was too painful to bear. “Forrest was the _only_ one who ever chose me. Even at the very end, he chose _me_.”

“That’s… that’s not true –”

“I don’t want to be with you,” Alex cried. “I know he loved me, he wouldn’t have picked anybody else. I could trust him, Guerin, I wanted to be with _him_.” He cried harder. “But he didn’t believe me.”

A tear fell down Michael’s cheek. He was just starting to understand why Kyle had insisted he avoid going to Alex himself. He wondered just how many times Alex cried that he didn’t want Michael to his best friend.

“I… I’m sorry, Alex,” he managed. He tried to tell himself that Alex was too upset to really know what he was saying, that he didn’t mean any of it, but he couldn’t help but find the truth in his airman’s words. Michael had chosen someone else, had looked away. He never even stopped to consider, not _once_ , what Alex might’ve thought of himself, of Michael’s feelings for him, whether he really loved him at all.

_I know you loved me._

Alex had said those words to him once, and Michael had said nothing in return. It was only now that Michael realized Alex may have been waiting then to be reassured. He’d been waiting for Michael to tell him that he _still_ loved him, that he always would, that no one else could ever compare. And, as always… Michael had said nothing.

Michael waited miserably while Alex cried his heart out, the sound tearing into him and shattering him beyond repair.

His tears subsided hours later, and the two sat in utter silence.

“Guerin,” Alex had croaked weakly at some point. “Could you please do something for me?”

Michael had sat up. “Anything.”

“Could you please leave? I want to be alone right now.”

Michael had stilled. He almost agreed to do it, if only not to hurt Alex more, but…

“Anything but that,” he’d said.

“Michael, please –”

“Let me just sit here, Alex. I won’t try to talk to you.”

Alex had sighed, but curled deeper in on himself and said nothing else.

It was only at twilight that Alex finally pushed himself off the ground. Michael followed. Alex put some cream on his burns and cuts, cleaned out his wound, and wrapped his forearm in a white bandage. He sat on the bathroom floor as he did all of this, and Michael had gone to sit with him.

When he was done, Michael offered him a hand up and Alex took it. Michael almost didn’t let go. Wordlessly, Alex grabbed a broom from the storage closet. Michael grabbed a rag, and the two of them went to cleaning the damage done to the kitchen.

When Alex had finished tying the trash bags, he handed them to Michael who went to throw them in the dumpster outside.

“You hungry?” Michael asked when he’d come back in to find Alex washing his hands.

Alex leaned against his sink. “Please leave.”

Michael swallowed. “I’ll call for takeout.”

Michael ordered from Alex’s favorite Chinese place, and they quietly waited in his kitchen. Alex seemed content to stay in the dark as he slumped over his counter, head pillowed on his arms, but he made no objections when Michael turned the lights on, bathing the walls in gold.

When the food came, Michael opened the containers for them.

“Here, you like beef, right?”

“ _Please_ , Michael.”

“Take it, Alex.”

The two of them sat and ate in silence. When they were done, they cleared away the trash, and Alex turned the TV on in his living room.

Alex curled up on his side on a couch as some sitcom played. Michael preferred to sit at the end near Alex’s feet instead of an armchair that felt too far away.

“You want me to get you a blanket?” he asked when Alex began to doze off.

Alex turned on his other side, facing away from him. “Please –”

“No.”

“ _Please_!”

Michael sniffed. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

By the time Michael had found a spare blanket and come to cover Alex with it, the airman was already asleep. Michael tucked him in and took his seat again, watching over him. At one point, Alex began to stir in his sleep, his brows furrowed as he whimpered slightly.

Michael reached over and ran a finger down Alex’s nose, his other hand rubbing Alex’s leg comfortingly. Alex calmed after a few minutes, and Michael was reassured. He pressed a kiss to Alex’s hair and remained there, sitting on the floor beside him as he slept, one hand in his hair, the other on his back.

Morning came, and Alex was still asleep. Michael wanted to be comforted by it, but Alex _never_ slept. The fact that Michael had woken up before him confirmed the cowboy’s fears; Alex had not been sleeping _at all_ in days.

He pulled the blanket up higher to cover Alex’s shoulder before he stood. He washed his face in the bathroom and went to preparing breakfast in the kitchen. He thought of the time he’d made breakfast for someone else, and realized he’d always considered what Alex’s reaction would be. Would Alex have liked this? Would he have kissed Michael for doing it? Would he have preferred something salty or sweet?

He was just finishing with the pancakes when Alex stepped into the kitchen, no longer numb and lost, but _angry_.

“Leave,” he said. He wasn’t asking anymore.

Michael ignored him, placing the last pancake on the large stack on the counter.

“ _Leave_!”

“Grab a seat.”

“I don’t want to grab a seat, I want you to GO AWAY!”

“You’re in pain,” Michael said, “and I love you. I’m not leaving.”

Alex made a sound like he was being strangled. He clawed at his own face, frustrated, and Michael could swear his own chest was filling with cotton. Alex’s hands fell, his eyes red.

“This is _my_ house,” his voice cracked. “And I don’t give you permission to be here.”

“I don’t care.”

“Get off my property!”

“What’re you gonna do, Alex?” he said. “Call the sheriff?”

Alex shook his head, his eyes wide. “You’re crazy,” he whispered. “Forrest dumped me because of _you_ , don’t you get that?! You dated someone else, you have no right to do this now!”

“I made the biggest mistake of my life,” Michael agreed. “But I can’t turn back the clock, Alex. I love you.”

“ _No_ ,” Alex warned.

“And I’m not going to stop loving you.”

“STOP IT!”

“So I’ll be here,” Michael said, a helpless smile tugging at his lips, “and you can yell all you want, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to fight for you like you fought for me.”

Alex hit Michael’s chest with his fist. “LEAVE!” he demanded, crying now, shoving him. “GO! I DON’T WANT YOU HERE! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Michael took the hits with a clenched jaw. Alex could kill him if he wanted to, could’ve really bruised him. But he was going easy, he was being careful. Even as a tear rolled down Michael’s cheek, he smiled. As angry as he was, as _broken_ , Alex still loved Michael so much.

Michael grabbed Alex’s wrist, and pulled him in against him, wrapping his arms tightly around him. Alex fought against him, demanded to be released, but Michael only held on, pressing his lips to Alex’s hair, the shell of his ear, his jaw, the crook of his neck.

After what felt like an hour, Alex stopped fighting, his body weakening against Michael’s. Michael wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him upright as he pressed his face into the side of Alex’s head.

Alex was panting heavily, his face streaked with tears.

“I’ve got you,” Michael whispered, burying his hand in Alex’s hair. “I’ve got you.”

Alex clutched his shirt desperately. “I’m sorry,” he breathed after a long moment. “Everything I said…”

Michael held him tighter. “You were right. I didn’t love you like I should’ve. Like I wanted. It’ll be better. I swear, Alex, it’ll be better.”

Alex cried into Michael’s shoulder, all the tears he seemed to have saved when Michael had told him he liked someone else, when Michael had stopped fighting for them, when Michael had given up on him.

Alex slowly wrapped his hands around Michael’s waist, hugging him back just as tightly, just as fearfully.

“Don’t look away again,” Alex quietly begged.

Michael held him tightly enough that it should’ve hurt, but Alex seemed only comforted by the touch. “I’ll never look away. Never.”


	230. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael saves Alex with a handprint.

“Feels like old times, doesn’t it?” Michael said.

He looked up. He and Alex were in a small room, sitting against opposite walls, their knees almost touching.

Alex’s head fell back with a shaky sigh, his eyes falling shut. “What?”

“Y’know,” Michael shrugged a shoulder. “Sneaking around together, running from the Big Bad, only safe with each other.”

Alex scoffed, his eyes still closed. “You mean _only in danger_ _because_ of each other.”

Michael’s smile dimmed. “Come on, Alex.”

Alex pressed the bottom of his palm into his eye, his fingers coated in blood. Michael swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We don’t put each other in danger, that was a stupid thing to say.”

“Hey,” Michael said, scooting closer so that their legs were tangled. “Hey. It’s gonna be okay. You know that right? I’ll get us out of here.”

Alex dropped his hand, his eyes finding Michael’s in an instant. He smiled tiredly. “Yeah, I know.”

Michael mustered a light tone as he leaned in, covering Alex’s hand on his stomach with his own. Michael’s bundled up jacket was almost soaked through-and-through now. Alex’s fingers coated, too, and frozen to the touch.

“Just keep pressure on that, okay?”

Alex nodded, his smile almost amused. “Okay.”

They were silent a moment as Michael thought hard and quickly about what they could do. Outside were Project Shepherd agents looking for them, and Michael couldn’t bear thinking of what Jesse’s associates would do to Alex once they caught him. He’d taken the blame for Greg, and Michael had always asked him why, but now he understood. Alex had known this would happen, and had always sought to protect his brothers.

His self-sacrificing, kind, beautiful, _stupid_ airman.

“Any second now,” he assured Alex when he suddenly winced in pain. “Max and Isobel and Liz and Kyle and your brothers – they’re all looking for us. They’ll find us. But not before I kick everybody’s ass out there.”

Alex smiled like he wanted to laugh, but his brows were furrowed in pain and his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Guerin,” Alex said and swallowed. “ _Michael_. I… I need you to listen to me.”

Michael leaned forward on his knees at once. “What is it?”

“I love you.”

He stilled. “What?”

“I don’t care that you don’t feel the same way,” Alex went on. “I don’t care that you wanted someone else more. You’ve been it for me since the day I met you.”

“I – Alex –”

“I love you so much it _hurts_.” Alex huffed a wet chuckle and hissed. “Literally.”

“Stop it,” Michael warned. “ _Stop_ talking like you’re… like you’re going to…”

“I love you I love you _I love you_ ,” he whispered at the end, a tear falling down his cheek. “I’m not scared of dying, Guerin, but… what I said to you when I was with Forrest, all that anger…”

“Alex, _please_ –”

“I don’t want it to be the last thing I tell you.” Alex’s eyes shut on a sigh. “Not as epic as you wanted, I know, but –”

Michael surged forward, kissing each of Alex’s eyes. He pressed their foreheads together roughly. “ _Stop talking._ Stop saying goodbye to me. You and I never say goodbye to each other, remember? We both suck at it too much.”

Alex managed barely a huff of a chuckle, leaning heavily on Michael’s hands now cupping his jaw. “You’re shaking.”

“No, I’m not.” Michael tried to steady his hands. “You’re hallucinating.”

“It’s okay, Guerin,” he whispered so softly that, had Michael not been pressed so closely to him, he may have missed it. “It’s going to be okay.”

Michael wanted to cry at Alex repeating his own words back to him. He was supposed to protect Alex this time, and here the airman was, trying to comfort _him_.

Until he wasn’t. Until his body sagged against the wall, and the hand that had been pressed against his wound fell limp onto the ground, and his head hung in Michael’s hands.

“Alex?” Michael shook him. “ _Alex_?!” Alex did not respond, and Michael moved in close enough that he was carrying Alex against his side. “No, no, no,” he breathed. “No no no no NO! Come on, Alex, wake up!” he begged, holding Alex’s face with one hand, his other around Alex’s shoulders. “Please, baby, please wake up. Open your eyes for me, come on.”

But if Alex could hear him, he didn’t respond. He was as cold as ice, his breathing weaker. Michael pressed two trembling fingers to Alex’s neck, his pulse almost nonexistent.

“Please, no,” he pressed his lips to Alex’s hair. “Please, not him. Not him.” Desperately, his hand fell from Alex’s jaw to his stomach, over his wound.

_“I don’t care that you don’t feel the same way.”_

A tear fell down Michael’s cheek. “Please.”

_“I don’t care that you wanted someone else more.”_

“I’ll save you, Alex. I swear I will.”

_“You’ve been it for me since the day I met you.”_

“Come on, Guerin,” he shut his eyes tight. “Focus. You can do this. Just focus on your powers.”

_“I love you.”_

A sob escaped Michael’s lips before he could help it, his nails digging into Alex’s skin.

“I can’t do it,” he cried. “I’m sorry, Alex, I can’t do it.”

He couldn’t focus on his powers, on the energy coursing through his veins, on gathering it all into one point. He couldn’t think of healing, and the science that went with that. He couldn’t think of anything but Alex.

“I love you so much,” he breathed into his hair. “Please don’t leave me here.”

He thought of the first time he’d seen Alex, but Alex hadn’t seen him. Here was this kid, dressed in all black with piercings and eyeliner. Everyone was keeping their distance from the scary-looking emo, but none of them saw Alex smile and laugh around Liz, the way his eyes glittered and turned hazel in the sunlight peeking through the classroom windows. None of them had heard Alex singing softly as he played the most beautiful piano music Michael had ever heard.

So Michael had taken his guitar, hoping it would be enough to get his attention. And for the first time, Alex had talked to him. _Really_ talked to him. Not only that, he’d offered Michael a safe space, because _of course_ he did.

Michael’s heart had hammered as Alex had said his name for the first time, and he’d never understood why. Until he did.

“I love you,” he whispered, shutting his eyes tight. “I love you so much, Alex. Please wake up for me. _Please_ wake up.”

He thought of Alex laughing, Alex crying, Alex kissing him, touching him. He’d wanted more than anything to be with Alex, but something always seemed to get in the way. He couldn’t lose Alex again. It would kill him.

He’d promised Alex, long ago, that he would protect him. And he’d failed at every turn, in _every_ way. He couldn’t fail now. He’d die before he lost Alex again.

Then a faint light shined behind his lids, and Michael opened his eyes to find his hand emitting a bright red glow.

His skin felt searing hot, and his heart stuttered in his chest at the shock of what was happening, but somehow he managed to keep his hand on Alex’s wound.

“Come on,” he whispered, even as pain began to overtake every inch of his body, even as he felt nausea eating at him from the inside, even as he felt every muscle and bone ache and burn. Still, he thought of Alex, his touch, his warmth, his joy and kindness and intelligence and courage. Everything that made him so relentlessly, _wonderfully_ Alex.

“ _Come on._ ”

The red light glowed brighter than Michael had ever seen it glow on Max’s fingers, and it spread throughout every inch of Alex’s body, as if blanketing him.

Then the light faded, Alex’s wound closed, and Michael only barely managed to hold the contents of his stomach back as Alex lay utterly still. A beat, two, _three_ , then –

Alex heaved a deep sigh, his eyes flying open as he sat up. Or _tried_ to, at least.

“Alex,” Michael breathed as Alex panted, looking around frantically. “ _Alex_.” He pulled him in tighter against his chest, hugging him as more tears fell. “Alex. Alex. Alex.”

“What,” Alex managed, his eyes wide. “What happened?”

Alex clawed at his stomach, pulling up his shirt and jacket to reveal a handprint glowing the colors of the spaceship piece; violet and pink and orange and gold – right there, on Alex’s smooth, blood-stained skin.

Alex looked up at Michael in wonder. “D-Did you –”

“I don’t know how,” Michael shook his head, crying. And just because he couldn’t help it, he kissed the side of Alex’s head, then his cheek, all the while Alex dazed, as if he’d just woken from a long sleep. “I – I didn’t think I was – I was even doing it right. _Alex_ ,” he breathed his name again, kissing his temple. “You’re okay. You’re really okay.”

“I’m… okay,” Alex muttered, looking just as surprised by it. “I’m okay.”

“I love you so much,” Michael sniffled, kissing Alex’s cheek, then his jaw. His hand came down to cover his own handprint on Alex’s stomach, lacing his and Alex’s fingers together. “I love you.”

“Michael,” Alex whispered, his brows furrowed, his eyes glassy, and his voice hoarse. “You saved me. Thank you.”

Michael shut his eyes, holding Alex tighter. When would Alex realize that Michael would go to the ends of the earth for him? That he’d risk anything? _Do_ anything?

“You’re _thanking_ me?” Michael huffed a wet chuckle into Alex’s soft hair. It seemed like an odd place to be inhaling his scent, to be so relieved and happy. “I should kill you.”

Alex whimpered, clutching Michael’s jacket sleeve tightly as if afraid that he would suddenly disappear. “Okay, um,” he said. “One problem down. One to go. How’re we going to get out of here?”

But before Michael could even try answering, his body rebelled at the first chance it got, and he twisted away from Alex, sitting on all fours to throw up.

“Michael,” Alex gasped. He put a hand on Michael’s back, his other on Michael’s arm, keeping him steady. “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re okay.”

Michael definitely didn’t feel it. His whole body ached, begging him to lie down, to _stay still._ But they had to escape. Michael had to get Alex home safely.

He heaved, his lungs burning and his head swimming. Everything turned muffled. Only Alex’s voice was piercing through the cotton in his ears.

“It’s going to be okay,” Alex promised him, his hold on Michael tight and warm and _soothing_. “I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

But Michael already knew that. He may not have believed it ten years ago, may have feared losing Alex more than losing a limb, but things were different now. Now he knew, he _understood_. Alex had never wanted to leave him, but he always left because he’d felt forced, unwanted. None of that seemed to matter anymore. Alex seemed determined to stay at Michael’s side whether he was wanted or not.

But he had to know now, didn’t he? He _had_ to know how badly Michael wanted him. How badly he had _always_ wanted him.

That was when Michael heard it; something muffled creaking behind them. The room shined with light, and they both looked over their shoulders to find Max, Isobel, and Greg standing there, panting and ruffled.

Alex still did not let Michael go, and Michael was glad for it, because right then, he passed out, falling sideways and onto Alex’s chest. Before darkness overtook him, Michael heard his siblings and Alex call his name, Alex’s arms warm and tight around him, keeping him safe, even as he slept.

Michael woke to find himself in his own small bed, Max’s face in Alex’s stomach, his fingers hovering just above the airman’s skin as Alex held his now clean sweater up, which was not a sight Michael ever wanted to wake up to; his brother staring at his airman’s body.

“Hey,” Michael grumbled, his voice weak to his own ears. “What’re you doing to him?”

Max did not move from his position as he shook his head, bent over to be at eye-level with Alex’s bellybutton, his eyes squinted.

“Alex said you healed him,” he said. “I had to be sure.”

Alex, on the other hand, looked only relieved that Michael had woken up. “You’re okay.”

“Don’t move,” Max warned, touching the handprint gently with a finger.

“Move,” Michael argued as he struggled to sit up. His head felt about a million pounds, but he held out his arms for Alex. “C’mere.”

Alex huffed a weary chuckle, let his sweater down, and all but fell into Michael’s embrace, burying his face in Michael’s shoulder.

“ _Alex_ ,” he breathed into the crook of Alex’s neck. “You’re okay.”

“Thanks to you,” Alex said. “I felt like my heart was about to stop.”

Michael held him tighter. “Don’t talk like that. I told I would save you, didn’t I?”

Alex leaned back despite Michael urging him to stay, and looked to Max.

“It’s thanks to you, too, Max. If it wasn’t for you and Isobel and my brother…”

Max shook his head, leaning against the opposite side of the trailer. “Nah. It was mostly Kyle and Liz and Flint, to be honest. If it hadn’t been for their little homemade knock-out serum, we would all be at Project Shepherd’s mercy.”

“Still,” Alex said. “I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t, Alex,” he said, his cheeks pink as he looked away. “You’ve done enough for all of us. I’ll – uh – go check on the others. Tell ‘em you guys are awake.”

Alex and Michael nodded, and once the airstream door was closed, Alex sat back against the far end of Michael’s bed which, Michael thought, was much too far away.

Alex was no longer smiling, though he let Michael hold onto one hand. “When I woke up, when you… used your powers to save me, I… I felt things, and…” he shook his head. “I’m going to ask this once, and then never again. It’s a question I’ve had since day one, and the one that I could never bring myself to ask… and I want an honest answer.”

Michael held on tightly to his hand. He wanted more of him, to hold Alex in his arms, close to his chest, but he tried to focus on what the airman was saying, on the uncertainty of his tone, on the small furrow of his brows. “Shoot.”

“Why did you choose Maria?”

Michael stilled. “You think I chose Maria?”

“I don’t think, Guerin, I know.”

“Alex –”

“ _Guerin_ ,” Alex said with the air of someone who was struggling to speak at all. This question, Michael realized, terrified him. When he spoke next, it was in a whisper. “Why?”

“I chose easy,” Michael said, a lump in his throat. “I chose new. And _different_. You were too… hard. I didn’t choose _Maria_ , Alex. I just wanted easy.”

Alex shook his head, his eyes glassy. “Did you love her?”

“Yes,” Michael answered instantly. “But not like you think.”

Hope bloomed in Alex’s miserable expression. Michael’s heart shattered as he realized that _he_ was the one who had left the love of his life so broken in the first place. The one person he never wanted to hurt became the person he hurt most.

“Yeah?” Alex breathed, his voice cracking.

Michael shrugged a helpless shoulder, managing a quirk of his own lips, even as his eyes burned. “Yeah.”

Alex pressed his lips together and took a deep breath, bracing himself for his last question. He visibly swallowed. “And me? Do you really feel…” he covered the hidden handprint with his own hand, “ _so_ much?”

Michael wanted to cry. To think he had messed up so badly that Alex couldn’t believe the love he was given, the love Michael had for him.

He reached for Alex’s stomach, covering Alex’s hand with his own. He wrapped his arm around Alex’s waist, and pulled him in against him so that Alex was almost straddling him. Michael pressed their foreheads together, his eyes fluttering shut at the contact.

“We’re cosmic, Private,” he whispered, his mouth brushing Alex’s, his breath fanning Alex’s lips. “I’ll die before I lose you again. I’ll die.”

He closed the distance between them, finally taking Alex’s lips in slow, open-mouthed kisses, sighing contentedly as he kissed Alex again and again and _again_. Alex cupped his jaw and kissed him as if he’d been starving, and Michael thought he actually _might_ die in utter bliss. It felt _so good_ to have Alex’s hands on him again, to feel Alex’s soft lips against his own, to feel Alex’s body press against his.

Michael’s body still ached, but he wrapped his arms tighter around Alex’s waist, happy for the burning in his bones if it meant he got to hold Alex like this. He brought the airman down, laying him beside him on the bed and kissing him into the pillow.

“No,” Alex suddenly said, trying to move, but Michael kept kissing his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. “W-We can’t, you just woke up.”

“And I feel great,” Michael muttered, sliding a hand beneath Alex’s sweater, resting it on the handprint. Alex’s skin was still so smooth and warm, his body pleading to be touched, kissed, _worshipped_.

“Y-You need to rest,” Alex said breathlessly, and gasped when Michael slid his tongue into his mouth.

“I’d rather touch you.” Alex pushed gently at Michael’s shoulders, and Michael groaned as he was led back to lie in bed. “ _Alex_!”

“There’ll be plenty of time to touch you when you’re feeling better,” Alex said, caressing his cheek. He leaned in, took Michael’s lips in a bruising kiss that made Michael actually _growl_ , and pecked him just once more before he sat up.

Michael clutched his sleeve to keep him there, but Alex seemed to have no intention of leaving as he crossed his legs, settling into the opposite side of the bed. Michael was unable to help the smile that tore at his lips, nor the tears that filled his eyes as Alex covered his legs with the blanket, making himself comfortable right here in Michael’s space.

Alex held up his sweater, looking down at the handprint. “This is insane,” he said with a shake of his head, smiling softly as if he couldn’t believe what he was looking at. “I can _feel_ it, everything you… you feel, it’s – it’s almost overwhelming…. _Hey_ , why are you crying?”

“I’m not,” Michael sniffled, wiping his face roughly with one hand. He got up and put his head in Alex’s lap, hugging his waist tightly. “Just stay here. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

Alex said nothing for a moment, then Michael felt him shifting beneath him. For a second, Michael panicked that Alex was trying to leave. Then he felt the blanket come up to his chin, saw Alex drag over a pillow to place behind him so that he would be more comfortable. He felt Alex’s arm come around him, shielding him from the cold, his other hand resting in his curls.

Michael wanted to curse at his eyes for tearing up again. He held Alex tighter and snuggled his face deeper into his lap, closing his eyes and inhaling Alex’s scent.

“Go to sleep, Guerin,” Alex said so softly that the beautiful sound erased all the pain from Michael’s body. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”


	231. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex finds out Michael said 'I love you' to someone else first.

Michael found Alex in his bedroom, sorting through the sock drawer.

“Hey,” Alex said upon seeing him.

Michael didn’t answer as he began unbuttoning his flannel shirt, open halfway already to reveal his hair chest. That got Alex’s attention.

He let his folded laundry fall and watched as Michael came to sit on the edge of his bed. Michael undid the last button and fell onto his back, his arms spread out, the flannel shirt exposing his naked torso and waist. He groaned as he turned his face into the blanket, inhaling Alex’s scent. No matter how many times he explored the rooms of Alex’s house, _everything_ reminded him of Alex, and he was a little bit completely in love with it.

Alex must’ve understood the groaning for what it was; whining. Michael heard him scoff before he pushed himself up off the carpet and came to sit next to his cowboy. Alex leaned down on his elbow, his other hand running up and down Michael’s chest and stomach, scratching lightly through the hair and stopping just short of his belt buckle.

“Someone’s tired,” Alex said, smiling.

Michael brought an arm around Alex’s waist, pulling him in against him. “I’ve been thinking about yours hands on me all day.”

“Yeah?” Alex bit Michael’s lip, blushing even as his nail scratched Michael’s nipple.

Michael exhaled deeply, content as he felt Alex’s hand all over his skin, rubbing his shoulders and coming back down to his stomach. He felt like he hadn’t been able to properly breathe until this moment.

“Keep touching me,” he breathed, undoing his belt buckle, then the buttons on his jeans, then the zipper.

Alex’s grin widened as he took Michael’s lips in his own. Michael moaned instantly, his hands coming up to slide under Alex’s shirt. He pushed it up, _up_ , even as Alex slid in between his legs. Alex sat up to pull his shirt off completely. He pressed his hips down into Michael’s, and Michael groaned loudly as his already hardened cock throbbed.

“Yeah, baby, do that again.”

So Alex did, and again, and again, and _again_. Michael was weak, the thought of Alex’s hands on him, his _mouth_ on his body, leaving him trembling and gasping for air every second. Now he was writhing underneath him, already imagining Alex’s naked body, his ass bouncing on Michael’s cock, the two of them wrapped in blankets _all night long_.

He wrapped an arm around Alex’s shoulders, pulling him down to kiss again. “I love you,” he breathed against Alex’s lips, his hand sliding down Alex’s naked back, eager to reach under his sweats.

Then Alex smiled so warmly, so _lovingly_ , and whispered, “I can’t believe I’m the first person to ever hear those words from Michael Guerin.”

Michael’s hand stilled, the heat in his body instantly turned to ice. “Alex…”

Alex touched Michael’s jaw so softly, as if Michael were the greatest treasure he’d ever come across and was terrified of hurting him. “I love you, too. You know that, right?”

Michael said nothing a moment, then, though he had no idea how, he mustered a faint smirk. “Am I the first person _you’ve_ ever said that to?”

Alex bit his lower lip as he smiled, as if embarrassed, and Michael’s heart shattered. He hadn’t even meant them. He hadn’t meant them the first time he’d said them, so they didn’t count, right? He hadn’t meant them, so there was no need to mention it to Alex.

Still, as Alex pressed kisses to his jaw, his neck, down his chest and stomach, Michael felt sick. It wasn’t fair. He had nothing to feel guilty about. So he hadn’t said the words to Alex first. What was the big deal?

_Alex thinks you did_ , a voice in his head scolded. _And you were the first for him._ That’s _the big deal._

Michael buried his hand in Alex’s soft brown locks, tried to focus on the feel of Alex’s mouth nearing his waistbelt, Alex’s tongue on his skin, Alex’s breath on his body.

It was only when Alex began to tug Michael’s pants down did Michael suddenly sit up, his hands on Alex’s shoulders, gently pushing him away.

Alex looked up, his cheeks flushed. “What’s wrong?”

Michael shook his head, cupping Alex’s jaw. “I just remembered I have to shower first. I feel gross.”

Alex scoffed, running his hands up and down Michael’s chest. “I don’t care about that. I kind of like it when you’re all sweaty and dirty.”

He took Michael’s lips in an open-mouthed kiss, and Michael moaned, desperate to touch Alex, to pull him in against him.

_I can’t believe I’m the first person to ever hear those words from Michael Guerin._

“Mm,” Michael pressed his lips together as he moved away again. “No. No way,” he tried for a light tone. “I have dirt and grease in places where dirt and grease should not be,” Michael said. On cue, his stomach growled.

Alex huffed a chuckle. “So _that’s_ what’s really going on. You’re hungry.”

Michael absolutely was, but in his haste to kiss Alex, hunger had been pushed back. It wasn’t like Michael could help it. When he was horny, very little else seemed to matter. One of those very few things was _Alex_. And Alex thought Michael had given him his first _I love you_.

“Okay, dinner’s in the oven,” Alex said, sitting up. “It should finish by the time you’re out of the shower.”

“Uh, I was actually just going to head back,” Michael said, grabbing his hat and buttoning up his shirt quickly.

Alex looked startled as Michael stood and walked past him into the hall. “What – you’re welcome to spend the night if –”

“Nah, I told Sanders we’d have a drink together, better sooner than later, y’know?” Michael said all of this without even looking at Alex, more preoccupied with putting on his boots.

That didn’t stop the hurt and confusion in Alex’s tone from piercing his skin.

“Oh,” he said, clearly not buying Michael’s excuse. “O-Okay. Guerin?”

Michael stopped at the door, his hand on the frame. He looked over his shoulder to find Alex standing behind him with furrowed brows, looking lost.

“Uh – I…” Alex shook his head, plastering on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Never mind.”

The tone worried Michael, but instead of pushing it, of risking Alex ask what was wrong again, he nodded once, said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby,” and left, closing the door behind him.

Michael held his breath until he made it into his car and drove away from Alex’s house. He thought he would feel better once he’d put some distance between them, but lying down on his small cold bed alone instead of well-fed with Alex in his arms made him feel infinitely worse. They weren’t supposed to be apart like this, they weren’t supposed to be keeping their real feelings from each other anymore.

Michael took a deep breath, trying to rid himself of the guilt. He wasn’t lying to Alex, and it wasn’t like he’d proposed to Maria. On the contrary, when Maria had ended things, Michael had actually been really relieved not to have to fake his interactions with her anymore. He was tired of trying to be the boyfriend he thought she would want, of trying to be satisfied when he just _wasn’t_ , of trying to love someone other than the one person who he needed no effort to love at all.

Michael tried to fall asleep, but all the while, he thought only of Alex. Alex’s disappointment in him, his betrayal. Michael tried to remember the last time he’d told Alex he loved him _still_ , before he’d ever said them at the hospital, and couldn’t pull one up. It made him sick to his stomach that he could’ve said those words so easily to someone else, someone he never really felt anything that strongly for, but it had been impossible to say them to the one person who had actually deserved to hear them. The one person he actually loved.

An eternity later, or it may have been no more than a few hours, Michael got out of bed, still fully dressed, put on his boots, and drove back out of the junkyard, back into Alex’s driveway. He almost jumped out of the truck before it was parked, and beat his fist against the door.

Alex opened not too long later – Michael wondered, not for the first time, if he’d been asleep at all – looking rumpled and wide-eyed.

“Guerin? What’re you doing? Is everything –”

“I told Maria I loved her first,” Michael breathed. “You weren’t the first person I said those words to, Alex, she was.”

Alex’s brows furrowed, still looking tired but not as shocked. He stared at Michael a long while, and finally he said, “You better come in. I’ll put some coffee on.”

Alex said nothing as he prepared the coffee, but Michael replayed, word-for-word, his breakup with Maria. When Michael was done, Alex remained calm and quiet, talking only to ask Michael how much sugar he wanted in his cup. Michael took it as a good sign, but then, after Alex set Michael’s cup in front of him, he took the seat opposite Michael on the counter instead of the one next to him.

Michael had thought he was cold before. It was only now that he really felt frozen.

Alex said nothing as his hands hugged his cup. There were the usual dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep, and he looked more tired than he normally did, but Michael feared that had nothing to do with his PTSD and more to do with Michael himself.

“Please say something,” Michael said quietly.

“I should’ve known it was about that,” Alex said. “You stopped me, you never stop me.”

“I didn’t want to,” Michael tried for a tease, but Alex didn’t laugh or even smile. “Alex, I swear… I never meant what I told Maria, not like that. Not like I feel for you –”

“Guerin,” Alex cut him off with closed eyes, his brows furrowed as if the slightest bit of noise was chaotic. “You don’t have to tell me that, I – I know how you feel about me. That’s not what’s bothering me.”

Alex paused for several long minutes. Michael waited. Alex exhaled deeply. When he opened his eyes again, they were glassy. “She got the first ‘I love you’?” he said, and it was the sheer desperation and the unfairness of it all in his voice that really shattered Michael’s heart, that _shamed_ him.

“Alex,” Michael tried reaching for Alex’s hand. Alex didn’t pull away, but he didn’t reciprocate the touch either. “I only said it because I was scared. I was trying to hold on to something I didn’t even really want.”

“Hold on,” Alex repeated in a mutter. He roughly wiped his face, and had a sip of his coffee. “Drink, before it gets cold.”

Michael did as he was told, if only to have something to do. He took Alex’s hand again when he was finished, needing desperately to close that physical distance between them.

“I already know the answer to this,” Alex said slowly. “But I just – I need to hear you say it.” He took a deep breath, bracing himself. “Are you only with me… because you couldn’t be –”

“No,” Michael said at once, shocked and heartbroken that Alex needed to ask that at all. “ _No_ , Alex.”

Alex nodded, his lips pursed as if to keep himself from crying. And still, he avoided Michael’s eyes. “Okay,” he whispered. He sighed, running a weary hand over his face. “I better get to bed.”

He stood, and Michael, hopeful and scared and desperate, followed. Alex came to stand in front of him, hesitated, then he wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist and buried his face in Michael’s shoulder. With trembling hands, Michael hugged him back, so tightly that he was sure Alex had trouble breathing, but if he was bothered, he didn’t say anything by it.

As Alex pulled back, Michael leaned in to kiss him, pressing their foreheads together. Alex didn’t hold them there long, however, and said, “You should probably go home.”

Michael stilled, his hands holding air as Alex stepped out of his embrace and around him. “W-What?”

“I need time to process, Guerin.”

“I –” Michael shook his head. “Wait,” he turned around, catching Alex’s arm. “W-Wait, are you breaking up with me?”

“What?” Alex looked too tired to be standing, let alone having _this_ conversation. “No, Guerin, what’re you talking about?”

“Y-You don’t want to see me.”

“I don’t want to spend the night with you,” Alex conceded. “I need a little time.”

“Are you mad at me?”

Alex opened his mouth, already shaking his head, but when he seemed to try to deny it, nothing came out. His eyes filled with tears, and Michael held on tighter as his own eyes burned.

“I’m mad at everything and everyone,” Alex finally said with a helpless shrug. “At _you_ for choosing her, at Maria for accepting it, for asking _me_ to accept it, at _me_ for accepting it in the first place, at the world for making it so easy for you two, and so impossible for _us_ – none of it is remotely fair, and I’m just _mad_. But…” he huffed a miserable chuckle. “I still love you so much. And I don’t want to lose you over this.”

Alex covered Michael’s hand on his arm with his own, brought it up to his lips, and kissed Michael’s fingers. Michael felt a tear fall down his own cheek as Alex kissed his palm and let his hand go.

“So before I really say something I regret,” Alex said, “ _leave._ Give me the night to calm down. That’s all I’m asking for, Guerin. Just the night.”

_No_ , Michael wanted to say. He didn’t want to go, not for another _second_. But he loved Alex more than he could say, and if giving him these few hours was what it took to keep them together, to keep Alex at his side, then he would do it. No matter how much it killed him.

Michael closed the distance between them, kissing Alex’s forehead. “I love you, Private,” he whispered fiercely against his skin. “I’ll be back by dawn.”

Without another word or glance, Michael turned and left Alex’s house. His feet kept carrying him, but his heart remained in Alex’s kitchen with the airman, holding onto him.

Michael got in his car, but couldn’t bring himself to start it. His hand trembled as he held his keys, and his arm went limp. He fell back in his seat, staring at Alex’s window, wondering what the airman was doing now that he was alone.

Michael clenched his jaw. He crossed his arms tight to ward off the cold, and waited.

Michael woke to someone knocking on his car window. He sat up quickly when he realized it was Alex, wearing a scarf and jacket, his cheeks and nose nipped by the cold and turned red.

Michael opened his door and all but stumbled out. Alex helped steady him and sighed.

“You were supposed to go home,” he said.

Michael swallowed past the pain in his throat. He may have developed a fever sitting out in the night, but he didn’t care.

“You _are_ my home,” he defended. Alex said nothing in response. He didn’t look surprised by Michael’s words, and why would he be? He and Michael knew what they meant to each other.

“Are we still in a fight?” Michael asked.

“We were never in a fight.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

Alex searched Michael’s face a moment, and chuckled. “I was until I saw your truck outside.” He took Michael’s hand in his. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s go to the Crashdown. I’m hungry, and I’m in dire need of some noise right now.”

He began to let go of Michael’s hand to round to the passenger’s side of the truck, but before he could move away, Michael wrapped an arm around his waist, pushed him against the car door, and kissed him.

Alex seemed momentarily startled, but he quickly wrapped his arms around Michael’s shoulders, and pulled him further in. Michael tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

“I love you,” he panted when they both pulled back to breathe, their foreheads pressed roughly together. “I love you, I love you, _I love you_.”

“I know,” Alex whispered, and pulled Michael in again, little moans escaping his throat as he kissed him.

The next time they pulled apart, Michael asked, “Do we… have to… have breakfast?”

“You didn’t have dinner last night,” Alex said, his fingers lightly tracing Michael’s jaw and making his eyes flutter. “You need to eat.”

Michael took Alex’s hand in his own, pressing open-mouthed kisses to each of his fingers. When Michael was horny, and Alex was in touching distance, nothing else mattered. “Screw dinner. I’m having you _now_.”


	232. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is upset that Kyle and Alex have a treehouse together.

Alex was known throughout his team, and the whole base, in fact, for his intelligence. It definitely didn’t take a genius, however, to know that Michael was upset.

The day had started out well enough. Michael had asked Alex to come to the airstream, but he’d been out of luck because Kyle had managed to call ten minutes beforehand and ask that Alex come to meet him behind the old Valenti house.

As a compromise, Alex asked Michael to come along. “They’re tearing down the treehouse Kyle and I built when we were kids,” he’d said. “We’re going to say goodbye. Come with me, it could be fun.”

It was hard to determine whether or not Alex and Michael were even _in_ a place of sharing precious memories yet, but Alex hadn’t been able to stand the resignation in Michael’s voice, the certainty that Alex would choose Kyle over him.

So he’d told him to come. Five minutes into the little reunion with their secret childhood hideout, and Alex had begun to wish he hadn’t.

Kyle had pointed to the steps as he recollected jokes made, Alex had laughed when they’d gone inside and remembered the way they’d used to play, to paint, to sing and tease and wish. It had been a peaceful time, before Alex had discovered what he had, knowing nothing more than that he loved being with Kyle more than anything.

Kyle had slung an arm around his shoulders and they had been who they’d been as kids; best friends. No. _Brothers._

Michael, however, didn’t seem to see it that way, and he’d lingered behind, his expression growing more and more solemn as the time passed, unwilling to speak or smile no matter how many times Alex tried to pull him into the conversation.

Michael had made some excuse about needing to go back to the junkyard by the afternoon, but Alex and Kyle wanted to stay to say their last goodbyes to the treehouse.

It was dark when Alex found his way back to the airstream, his heart heavier for more than the destruction of his childhood safe place as he found Michael exactly where he’d expected to find him; sitting in front of the bonfire with a drink in hand.

Alex sat down beside him with a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I got so caught up with Kyle, I –”

“You have a lot of good memories with him,” Michael said with a shake of his head. “That treehouse is obviously important to you.”

“It was,” Alex nodded. “Once.”

Michael’s lips were pursed, his eyes on the bonfire instead of Alex. “It was a great treehouse. Really cool.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “Uh, yeah, it was.”

“You and Kyle have a treehouse,” he shrugged, smirking humorlessly, “and you and _I_ have a toolshed.”

Alex’s shoulders fell. Now he understood. “Guerin –”

“Maybe we should’ve had our own goodbye tour to that place before we totaled it,” he said. “It might’ve been nice.”

“Stop it,” Alex said calmly. “You can’t keep comparing our relationship to mine and Kyle’s.”

“Yours and _Kyle’s_.”

Alex leaned back in his chair, nudging Michael’s foot with his own. “You _know_ it’s not like that.” He nudged his foot again. “Smile.” He sat up straighter, and nudged Michael again, tilting his head. “Please smile.”

“I don’t know how,” Michael said plainly. “No good memories, remember? No sacred safe place. Just that damned toolshed.”

“Guerin –”

“No, Alex, _listen_ to me.”

“I _am_ listening,” Alex said. “So we didn’t have a treehouse when were younger, what’s the big deal? I don’t know if you know this, but mine and Kyle’s path did exactly stay on the straight and narrow.”

“But you have _something_ , right?” Michael said, his drink forgotten, and Alex’s heart broke at the desperation in his voice. “And we don’t. We have the toolshed. And because of me, we don’t even have the UFO museum anymore.”

Alex frowned. “Why don’t we have the UFO museum?”

Michael opened his mouth to answer, seemed to realized what he’d said, and closed his mouth quickly, running a hand through his unruly curls. “Never mind, the point is, I’m not Kyle.”

“Good,” Alex said, “because I like _you_.”

Michael said nothing, unwilling to believe Alex and even more unwilling to say so.

Alex sighed, stood, and Michael looked to him as if panicked that he was leaving. Alex, however, came to stand in front of Michael, then rested his knee on each side of Michael’s legs so that he was straddling him. Michael dropped his bottle onto the ground, his expression turning to shock as Alex cupped his jaw, and let his hands fall down Michael’s neck to his shoulders.

“A-Alex,” Michael breathed.

The chair was panful on Alex’s knees, but there was nowhere else he would’ve rather been. Michael hands fell on Alex’s hips hesitantly, as if he was terrified Alex was joking and would move away from him at any second.

“ _You’re_ the one I want,” Alex whispered against Michael’s lips, slipping his hand down the back of Michael’s shirt. Michael moaned, his eyes fluttering shut. “I want to feel _your_ hands on me. I want to make new, _better_ memories with _you_.”

Michael swallowed and pushed Alex’s shirt up his hips. Alex bit his lower lip and took off his jacket. Then he began unbuttoning his shirt, understanding dawning on Michael’s face, a starved look in his eyes as he followed Alex’s movements, licking his lips.

Alex took a quick breath before he pushed his shirt off his shoulders and there he was, straddling Michael, half-naked.

Michael wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist, his other hand stretching up Alex’s naked stomach, his chest, his bare shoulders and arms. It was as if he was trying to reach whatever he could.

They were out in the open, someone might come see them, but Alex didn’t care. He only knew he wanted Michael to smile, to feel the cowboy’s warm, calloused hands on his body, to kiss him senseless and lose himself to Michael completely.

He pressed his forehead to Michael’s. “Smile for me,” he said.

Michael bit his lower lip to keep from grinning, but Alex could see the corners of his lips quirk up as his hand slid down the back of Alex’s pants, his other hand undoing Alex’s zipper.

“You smell amazing,” Michael breathed, and Alex couldn’t help but laugh.

“ _I smell amazing_?” Alex kissed his forehead. “Is that really what you’re thinking of right now?”

Michael’s eyes fluttered shut and he pulled Alex with him as he leaned back. “I think you need to kiss me again.”

“Yeah?” Alex smiled, kissing Michael’s nose, then each cheek.

“Come on,” Michael tilted his chin up, his eyes hazed and on Alex’s lips. “Kiss me, baby. Please kiss me.”

Alex let his hand fall from Michael’s hair down to his jaw, the nickname sending a jolt of electricity up his spine. “You never have to ask, Guerin,” he breathed, and pressed his lips against Michael’s.

Michael wrapped his arms around him tightly, pressing their chests together. Alex tilted his head and deepened the kiss. He moaned as he felt Michael’s hand shoving his jeans down, grabbing Alex’s ass eagerly.

“Hold onto me,” Michael said, wrapping one arm under Alex’s ass, one arm around his back, and moving to stand. “I’m about to make this whole junkyard sacred.”


	233. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael doesn't want Alex to go.

Michael’s head fell back against his headboard, his nails digging into Alex’s hips as the airman bounced on his cock. He reached around, groping Alex’s ass and digging his fingers into the soft skin.

“Alex,” Michael panted. “Yeah, baby, you like that? Like it hard?”

“G-Guerin,” Alex’s mouth was hanging open, his eyes dazed, his hands flat on Michael’s stomach for leverage as he fell back down, his ass slapping Michael’s balls. “Harder.”

Michael bit his lower lip, thrusting up even harder as Alex came down again, the two moaning loudly. Michael pushed himself up with one hand on the bed, his other arm coming around Alex’s waist and hugging him closely, his mouth open against Alex’s nipple.

“Guerin, I’m – I’m gonna –”

“M-Me, too,” Michael barely managed to say before Alex’s hole tightened around his cock, and he came harder than he’d ever come before. A split second later, Alex followed, hot spurts of white shooting all along Michael’s stomach and chest.

He groaned, putting two fingers in and smearing it over his bellybutton and nipples. He wanted Alex’s trace to be all over him, to feel him against his skin.

“You’re so sick,” Alex breathed before taking Michael’s face and smashing their lips together.

Michael moaned, pulling Alex down with him as he fell back against the sheets. There was something so special and different about Alex’s _taste_ , his scent, his touch. Michael’s heart felt like it was expanding in his chest, overwhelmed by how lucky he was that he finally, _finally_ got to have Alex like this, in his arms again.

He told Alex that as they lay beside each other on the bed, Michael’s arm around Alex’s waist. Alex bit his lower lip to keep from grinning, his cheeks red. He lightly shoved Michael’s chest, but Michael tightened his grip on him, refusing to let him move away.

“You’re such a dork,” Alex whispered and took Michael’s lips in a soft, long kiss.

“ _Baby_ ,” Michael kissed him again, moving to hover over him.

“Don’t you ever get tired?” Alex laughed.

“Of you?” Michael bit Alex’s lower lip, already sliding his hand down Alex’s chest. “ _Never_.”

“No,” Alex said in between kisses. “No, no, no.” He started to sit up. “I have to go, I’m going to be late for work.”

Michael pushed Alex back down despite his objections. “Stay,” he urged quietly, sliding in between Alex’s legs.

“I can’t, I –” Alex cut himself off with a gasp as Michael hitched his leg higher, the two meeting at the hard crux between their legs. “Guerin, I _can’t_.”

“Stay with me, Alex,” Michael breathed and took Alex’s lips in his again.

Alex returned the kiss eagerly, and just when Michael thought they may get to do another round, Alex gently pushed him off as he sat up.

“I’ll be back tonight,” he quietly promised, pecked Michael’s lips once more, and swung his legs off the edge of the bed.

Michael watched with his heart sinking as Alex reached for his prosthetic, remembering a time that felt like yesterday, when Alex had put distance between them because Isobel had almost found them out. Michael had shrugged it off like it hadn’t bothered him, even though moving further away from Alex felt like a stab wound to his heart. He felt that same stab wound now.

He wrapped his arms around Alex, pulling him back into bed, his back pressed against Michael’s chest. Alex dropped his prosthetic.

Alex gasped. “Guerin –”

“I don’t want you to go,” Michael murmured against Alex’s shoulder, and Alex fell silent. “Can’t you stay here with me? I’m asking you to stay, Alex.”

Alex said nothing a moment, then turned in Michael’s hold. Instead of looking angry or annoyed, he looked so completely and utterly fond that half the tension curling in Michael’s chest faded away completely.

“You want to stay in bed forever?” Alex asked, but did not seem the slightest bit frustrated. “You know at some point, we’ll have to get up. We’ll have to go to work. We’ll have to be apart for more than a few seconds.”

Michael searched Alex’s face. He couldn’t lose him again. He _wouldn’t_. He’d had a life without Alex, and it was a miserable one. He would’ve rather died than lose him again.

“What if you don’t come back?”

“I will.”

“How can I be sure?”

Alex said nothing a moment. Michael knew he was being unfair. There was no way Alex could convince him that they were never going to be separated again, that he would always come back to him. And rationally, Michael _knew_ that Alex was his. That there would never be a time when the two _didn’t_ come back to each other. But his hands wouldn’t let go of Alex, his body wouldn’t move away. He couldn’t bring himself to let Alex go.

Finally, Alex sighed, looking around for his phone. He picked it up off the counter behind the bed, dialed, and pressed two of his fingers to Michael’s lips to keep him quiet. And he called in sick. Alex, who would’ve rather died than look weak to anybody, who pushed through fever and body pains like they were nothing, who Michael was _sure_ had never called in a sick day before in his _life_ – had just called in sick. For Michael.

“Yes, sir,” he said at the end of the call. Michael saw his hands tightening on the phone, as if the lie was physically hurting him, but when his eyes turned to Michael, they were loving and warm, his touch on Michael’s jaw soft and gentle. “Yes, sir. I will see you Monday. Thank you, sir. Goodbye.”

“Ugh,” he said after hanging up. “How do people _do_ that?”

“You,” Michael shook his head, his brows furrowed. “For me, you…”

Alex merely shrugged, putting his phone back on the counter. “That’s that, I guess.”

Michael grabbed him and yanked him down with him, hovering over Alex and kissing him roughly. “I can’t believe you called in sick for me.”

“I won’t do it again,” Alex warned, but he pulled Michael in again to kiss. “We have three days to get you to be okay about me leaving for work. It’s” Michael kissed him again “not in another country, Guerin. I’ll” another kiss “be right here.” He took Michael’s face in his hands to keep him still. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Right here,” Michael breathed, laughing. “I can’t _believe_ you called in sick! Did you ever even call in sick back in _school_?”

Alex looked at him like he was crazy for asking.

“You beautiful little soldier, I love you,” Michael confessed, and wrapped his arms around Alex, kissing him hungrily, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

When they both pulled back to breathe, their foreheads rested together, Alex said, “We’re not staying in this bed all day though.”

Michael grinned. “We’ll see about that,” he said, pulling the blanket over their heads.

Michael felt stupid for checking his watch so often, but the sun had gone down hours ago and Alex wasn’t answering his phone and, try as he might, he couldn’t help but worry.

_He’s still working_ , whatever was left of his logic told him. _He’ll come back._

The last time Alex had said he’d be back, Michael had gone to seek out someone else and very nearly lost him forever for it. He wouldn’t make that same mistake. He would wait for Alex, right here in front of the bonfire with his beer, not worrying at all while tapping the glass bottle and totally worrying.

When the familiar car drove into the junkyard, Michael clenched his jaw and stood, his bottle falling to the ground, forgotten.

Alex parked and stepped out. He took his hat off and ran a hand through his already somehow windswept hair.

“Hey,” he barely managed before Michael wrapped him in his arms and picked him up off the ground. Alex’s arms came around his shoulders, and Michael buried his face in the crook of Alex’s neck.

“I missed you,” he breathed.

“I missed you, too,” Alex laughed when Michael finally set him down. “Long day?”

Michael shook his head. _Only long and exhausting because you weren’t here_ , he thought, but didn’t say. Instead, his finger tugged on the first button of Alex’s uniform and he said, “Nothing that a good night can’t fix.”

“Yeah?” Alex bit his lower lip as he grinned. “Three days in bed didn’t wear you out?”

Michael’s lips brushed Alex’s as he said, “Not even close, Private. Not even a little bit close.”


	234. Malex & Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And how was I supposed to know that?"

Michael did dumb things. Everyone who knew him knew that much. Clinging to his anger, smashing things whenever he got angry, winding up in a holding cell every other day because his anger got the better of him.

But the day Michael had come to see Alex, and found him sitting in his backyard with his head huddled closely to Forrest Long’s as they looked something over in a black journal, Michael could suddenly count off his Top Five Dumbest Tracks in his head.

Track Number One: Introducing Alex to Forrest in the first place.

Alex caught his eye and muttered a distracted, “Hey, Guerin,” before returning his attention to Forrest and – what Michael assumed – was some piece of literary art that would have Max tearing up. As if Michael was any stranger.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing a chair and turning it, sitting across from the two with his arms folded over the back. He waited for one of them, Alex namely, to look up and smile that cute little _‘What are you staring at me for?’_ smile so that Michael could reel him into more important conversations, i.e. conversations that didn’t include any blue-haired historians.

But Alex didn’t look up, didn’t glance, didn’t even hum in response when Michael reached out and playfully flicked his elbow.

“Sorry, just – just a second,” Alex finally murmured.

Track Number Two: Playing everything Alex had ever told him or wanted off as a joke. It made it very hard to get Alex’s attention now.

Michael shifted in his chair, and tried not to let the smirk fall from his lips. He knew he had no right to be annoyed. After all, he was the one that had basically handed Alex to Forrest. And they were boyfriends. And this was what boyfriends did. They hung out together and they wrote songs and poems together and they ignored certain cowboys sitting in front of them and trying blatantly to get their attention in favor of talking to each other.

Did it make Michael’s eye twitch? Sure. Was his truck hovering a couple of inches off the ground in Alex’s driveway? Definitely. But. That was fine.

“I like that line,” Forrest said, and did he _have_ to press his lips to the shell of Alex’s ear? Didn’t matter. He was doing it.

Alex bit his lower lip to keep from grinning. He was doing a terrible job. “Which one? That one?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay,” he said. “It stays. _Okay_ ,” he huffed, closing the journal and handing it to Forrest. He finally met Michael’s gaze. “Yes. What is it?”

Michael tilted his head. “Aww, thanks for making the time.”

Alex gave him a sickly sweet smile, and was momentarily startled as Forrest turned his chin and kissed his lips. Michael’s smirk officially fell.

Track Number Three: Kissing/Hugging/Doing _anything_ with anybody other than Alex. If it had hurt this much, he had no idea how Alex had kept from crying.

After the long, languid kiss, Forrest pecked him one more time and winked. “I’ll see you inside. Nice seeing you, Guerin.”

“Forrest,” Michael said with a raised hand, refusing to meet his eyes. It wasn’t until Forrest disappeared behind the patio door that Alex pressed his lips together and sighed.

“And now that he’s gone?”

“I want to kill him,” Michael growled, and Alex scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Alex, he just did that on purpose.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Alex said. “He kisses me all the time.”

Michael didn’t know which was worse. The fact that Alex could talk about _Forrest_ and his _boyfriend_ and _kissing_ so easily, or the fact that he wasn’t talking about Michael.

“Does he have to do it in front of me?” he demanded.

“What does that matter?” Alex asked. There was no venom, no bitterness, no anger in his voice. It was all the simplicity of, _Why, what does it matter if you see us making out?_

“I –” he started, and faltered.

Track Number Four: Never telling Alex what he meant to him.

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. “Guerin, what’re you here for?”

Michael stuck his tongue in his cheek. He tapped a finger on the back of the chair. “Nothing,” he said. When Alex gave him a withered look, he insisted. “Really, Alex, I just came to see you. I . . .” he shook his head, looking at the ground. “I wanted to see you.”

“You . . . wanted to see me,” Alex repeated. He leaned in, his brows furrowed like he didn’t really get it. “For what?”

Michael frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“What are _you_ talking about?”

“What am I – _Alex_ , I came here just to see you.”

“Yeah, I got that part,” he said, “but what _for_ , what do you need?”

“What do I _need_?” he gaped. “Nothing, Private, I just missed you!”

Alex’s shoulders fell. “Oh.”

Silence. Michael was staring at the space between them, his cheeks red. He looked up and found Alex rubbing the back of his neck, speechless and clearly uncomfortable.

“This isn’t a big deal, Alex,” he said with a light tone that felt as hollow as his heart. “I miss you all the time, even when you’re where I can see you. It’s not really _new_.”

Alex huffed a weary chuckle, rolling his eyes. He looked at Michael with a look that so clearly said, _Come on, seriously?_ Then he said –

“And how was I supposed to know that?”

“Well, I . . .” he started, and stopped. _Well, I tell you every day_ , he’d almost said. But he didn’t. He _thought_ it every day. He _felt_ it with every fiber of his being. Even to his siblings, even when he was dating someone else. But, thinking back now, he couldn’t remember a single time he’d ever said so much as ‘I like you’ to Alex himself.

He remembered, ‘Run and tell daddy.’ He remembered, ‘What happened? I was pretty wasted.’ He remembered, ‘It’s just stupid now.’ Never anything real. Never anything honest. Never anything kind. And now Alex couldn’t even believe Michael would come to him if he didn’t _need_ something from him. It broke his heart.

“Guerin,” Alex said quietly, “you didn’t even stay for my song. How was I supposed to know?”

Michael’s mouth opened on a silent sentence, begging the words to come out now, to tell Alex the truth about everything, why he’d dated Maria and how he’d wanted no one but the airman the entire time.

But then –

“Alex,” Forrest called from inside. “Lunch is ready!”

“Coming!” he called back, and Buffy barked around Forrest’s legs, scratching at the door and begging to be let out. Forrest and Alex shared a laugh. Then Alex’s smile turned sadder as he turned to face Michael again.

He stood, and Michael stood with him.

“Alex –”

“Guerin, it’s _okay_ ,” he said, grasping Michael’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault you couldn’t love me back.”

With a last pat, Alex walked away from him, towards his boyfriend, and his boyfriend’s dog, and the small family they’d made that no longer included Michael.

Track Number Five: Not holding on when he’d had the chance.


	235. Forlex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2x06 spite fic.

There was this spark that lit in Alex’s eyes whenever he sat at his keyboard piano. A way he bit his lower lip as his fingers hovered above the keys, a way he smiled to himself whenever he tinkered with the notes and managed an accidental, beautiful melody.

“Not bad, huh?” he’d say with a shy smile that made Forrest want to grab his face and kiss him senseless to show him just how not bad it was.

Instead, Forrest would rest his chin on his palm as he watched Alex with a fond smile that he had no hopes or desire of ever controlling.

“That’s one way of describing it,” he’d say, and Alex would blush and look away, like he couldn’t believe the complement but liked hearing his boyfriend’s praise anyway.

Forrest had a love/hate relationship with that reaction. On the one hand, Alex Manes was the _cutest_ man alive, screw whatever anyone else said, and he was glad to be the only one allowed to see that side of him.

On the other, he hated Alex not knowing how special he was. And when he remembered the quiet confessions made in diner booths and in the small space between them in bed, Forrest knew who to blame for it all.

He was laid out on the couch now, listening to his boyfriend play around with the keys and occasionally stopping to jot something down in his song writing book, when a knock came at the door.

Alex stopped writing and looked over his shoulder, brows furrowed.

Forrest lifted his head slightly off the armrest. “You promised you’d rest today, Alex.”

He shrugged. “I have no idea who that could be.”

Forrest sighed, pushing himself to stand. “ _I_ do. No, sit down,” he said as Alex began to move off the settee. “I’ll take care of it.”

“But I —”

Forrest took Alex’s face and smothered him with kisses, turning his objections to laughter.

“Okay, okay,” Alex giggled as he grabbed Forrest’s sweater, keeping him close instead of pushing him away. “Whatever you want.”

Forrest pecked his lips once more and returned his attention to the person who had knocked again.

His smile dimmed as he opened the door and found Maria. She tilted her head in what Forrest supposed was meant to seem cute. Clearly, she wanted something.

“Hi, Forrest,” she said. “Glad to see you’re here.”

“Hey, Maria,” he said with a sigh, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. “And yeah, Alex has a day off, so we’re working on some music and stuff.”

“And stuff,” she raised her eyebrows suggestively. “Well, it’s good. Alex needs a day off with his boyfriend.”

The tension in Forrest’s shoulders began to fade. “Yeah,” he said. “He does.”

“I won’t take up too much time,” she said, and the dread returned. She held up the laptop she’d been carrying in one arm and tapped it. “I just need him for, like, two minutes.”

As she moved toward the door, Forrest sidestepped to block her path, holding his hand up to keep the other side blocked, too.

“Yeah,” he said with grim resignation. “I don’t think so.”

Maria frowned at him. “Excuse me?”

“Maria, I just told you,” he said. “This is his one day off in _months_. Whatever you need, can’t you save it for tomorrow?”

“Alex doesn’t mind,” she defended.

“Because this is how he _thinks_ friends are supposed to act,” Forrest said, getting more and more frustrated. Was this really how they’d been treating Alex all these years? He probably didn’t mind being taken advantage of, so it was okay?

“I want to talk to Alex.”

“I don’t really care what you want, Maria,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think what you want has taken enough priority in Alex’s life, don’t you? If you ask him for something, he’ll feel obligated to help you. But he’s finally having some fun, _let him_ enjoy himself.”

She scoffed, offended. “You’re acting like I’m asking him for things all the time.”

“No,” Forrest said, “that would mean talking to him. And you don’t. You just pretty much take whatever you want, don’t you?”

She looked furious. “Where’s Alex?” she demanded. “I want to talk to Alex.”

Forrest checked over his shoulder to make absolutely sure Alex couldn’t hear them, and stepped down. “Why?” he asked. “Think if you’ll keep pushing, you’ll get what you want from Alex again?”

She blanched. “I... I don’t —”

“Oh, I think you do,” he said, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. “But, see, that won’t work this time. Because _I’m_ here. And Alex _knows_ that if he says no to you, I’ll still be here to keep him safe, to tell him it’s okay, to love him _anyway_.”

Forrest shook his head, disgusted. “I only wish Guerin had given him that same protection from you. But you both. Just. _Needed_ him too much. Right?”

Maria stood, horrified and furious and near tears. Forrest didn’t care. The only person he cared about was sitting inside, creating stories with his piano. He turned and closed the door behind him, and made his way back to the living room.

“Hey,” Alex said distractedly, “who was at the door?”

Forrest sat down next to him, and kissed his shoulder. “I took care of it, Cap.”

Alex raised an amused brow at him. “Anything I need to know?”

Forrest shook his head, pulling Alex in closer by the waist and kissing his cheek, making his smile widen. At the sight and touch of him, warm and happy and safe here, Forrest felt himself able to relax again. “I took care of it, baby.”


	236. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex wears a suit, and it does things to Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to be silly for a minute. Humor me.

“I didn’t even know this kinda place could exist in this town,” Michael said, looking up at the grand ballroom ceiling, small silver stones embedded into the cream marble walls, the silver railings and ceiling-high windows that led out onto four balconies.

The guests of the ballroom, all in suits and floor-length dresses, chatted with their small groups, a glass of wine or champagne in their hands. But there was one particular guest Michael and his friends were most interested in; Bo Swindell. Or, as Alex had uncovered him to be last week, a Project Shepherd agent who they suspected ran another Caulfield facility just outside of Roswell.

Isobel scoffed, brushing something off her white sleeve, her pantsuit immaculate and making her stand out like a diamond amongst the hoards.

“Just because _some_ people don’t mind having their dinner on hay-covered grounds doesn’t mean everyone else is inclined to follow their example,” she said. “Soak it in, Michael. Smell that Cartier and Armani?”

“It’s suffocating.”

“It’s _taste_.”

“Leave him alone,” Liz said, amused. Unlike Isobel, she didn’t seem to realize the effect she had in her long black dress. She patted his shoulder proudly. “Mikey actually dressed up for this!”

“Ugh,” Isobel said with a roll of her eyes. But Michael was inclined to agree with Liz.

His dark jacket thrown over the nicest shirt he had and dark jeans were about as prim and proper as he was going to get.

“It’s cowboy elegant,” Alex assured her from where he stood against the wall, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

It wasn’t working. Even hiding among the champagne glasses, Alex attracted the raised brow or the interested smirk or the blatant mental undressing from every other guest that passed them by. It annoyed Michael, but he couldn’t blame them.

The last time he’d seen Alex in a suit was at Noah’s funeral, and he’d been sufficiently drunk and pissed off enough then to push past the sheer want and settle on the fury. Alex had been everything he’d wanted and was another reminder of something else he was no longer allowed to have. So he’d made the perfect target for Michael’s anger.

_Now_ , as Alex stood there looking like a dream in his deep gray blazer and slightly tousled hair from having run an anxious hand through it, he was still someone Michael couldn’t have, but Forrest was away at a conference and it made things . . . different. Alex’s boyfriend wasn’t here, and Michael was, and to stand so close to him without the reminder that he was taken shoved down his throat, Michael couldn’t help but shift on the marble tiles, scooting closer to him.

Alex glanced at him, and said nothing.

_Because it doesn’t make a difference to him how you feel_ , a voice in his head taunted. _He has a boyfriend now. You’ve missed your chance._

Michael silenced it, moving closer to Alex against the wall. It helped him breathe better.

“Is everyone ready for what comes next?” Max asked under his breath, plastering on a polite smile to another couple as they passed.

Alex straightened up off the wall with a sigh. He pressed his lips together in a tight smile. “Should be fun.”

Michael’s blood boiled at the thought of what his airman was about to do. Bo Swindell had been a veteran, according to Alex’s research, but had been notorious for disobeying orders, risking the lives of his teammates by deviating from strategy on the battlefield, and being caught with his briefs around his ankles with more than a few men in the base storage closet. Needless to say, Swindell had been officially dishonorably discharged.

“My dad must’ve hated everything about him,” Alex had said with disgust as he’d read the file. “But he was useful and willing to do anything for money. That must’ve been good enough to take him on.”

“Well,” Max had said at the time, crossing his arms, “how do we get close to somebody like that?”

Alex had sighed grimly, like he’d decided on a plan the second he’d opened the file. “If he has a thing for male soldiers . . .”

Michael had hated the idea, had objected to it at once, but it was a matter of reason and logic. Alex was the handsomest soldier there was (Michael was _not_ being subjective; Alex’s good looks were a conclusive _fact_ ), and if this guy would take an interest in anyone, it would be him.

“You don’t have to do this, Alex,” Michael insisted anyway, holding Alex’s gaze. “You can still back out.”

Alex looked away. “I can handle it, Guerin. I’m tougher than you think I am.”

Michael frowned. “I – Alex, that’s not what I –”

“Come on, Is,” Alex offered Isobel his hand once the quartet started. Not looking any more eager at the idea, Isobel put her hand in Alex’s with an apologetic look at Michael.

As they walked off, Liz put a hand on Michael’s shoulder.

“He’ll be fine,” she said, though her worried eyes followed Alex. “He’s done worse.”

Michael saw Bo’s eyes catch Alex’s figure as he passed and linger on him. He clenched his jaw. “Has he?”

The music started in earnest and Michael stood to the side as Liz took Max’s elbow and he led her out onto the dance floor. As couples twirled around each other, Michael kept to the wall, glaring as Swindell’s eyes kept flitting to Alex, clearly uninterested in whatever the woman in front of him was discussing.

Soon enough, he would be excusing himself and approach Alex. He would smile in that hungry, vicious way he was now, and he would . . . well, the thought of what he might do had Michael’s power rising to the surface. The champagne glasses quivered on the table beside him before Michael managed to forcefully shove his anger down.

He turned away, grabbing a glass and downing it in one gulp, hoping it would be enough to calm his thoughts. It wasn’t. Alex looked too good, his shoulders too straight and tense, his smile at Isobel small, as if he was forcing himself not to be sick with what was to come. He didn’t want to do this, Michael could tell, but he’d convinced himself he had to. He’d convinced them all he had to.

Michael considered him, a very bad idea forming in his head. Did that deter him? After downing a second glass of champagne, no, it didn’t.

He weaved through the other guests, his intention making his steps light and quick, and he came up behind Alex. He exhaled sharply, forcing his nerves out in one breath, and tapped the airman’s shoulder.

Alex turned, the tension in his shoulders fading ever so slightly at the sight of Michael. He glanced at Swindell who was still watching them.

Michael held out a hand. “May I have this dance?”

Alex looked back at Isobel whose eyes were narrowed at Michael, as if trying to read his thoughts.

“Uh –” Alex said, “Guerin –”

“Might as well let everyone know what you’re into,” Michael cut him off, his heart climbing into his throat the longer he stood there. His smirk faltered with every second he went unanswered.

Isobel bit her lower lip. “Might be a good idea, Alex,” she said, nudging Alex’s back slightly. She smiled discreetly at Michael before walking away and disappearing into the crowd, leaving them both standing there awkwardly.

His cheeks red and his eyes wandering, like they did when he was the center of attention and hating it, Alex took Michael’s hand. He looked down as Michael pulled him in.

“What’re you doing?” Alex muttered, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“Dancing with you,” Michael said, and proved his point by wrapping an arm around Alex’s waist, pulling their bodies flush together. Alex gasped and looked up, startled. Once Michael caught his eyes, the rest of the ballroom vanished, and neither of them could look anywhere else.

Michael stretched his fingers out against Alex’s back, imagining the warm, naked skin beneath the soft fabric. Alex’s hand tightened in his as Michael rested their foreheads together.

“I miss you,” he breathed before he could help it, and unable to regret the words.

“You can’t say that,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning Michael’s lips.

Michael leaned in, his lips brushing Alex’s cheek. “But you like it, don’t you?”

Alex didn’t move away as he stammered, “Y-You shouldn’t be here, I need to – to find . . .”

Michael brought his other arm down to hug Alex’s waist, keeping them as close as possible as they swayed on the spot. Alex’s hand came up his arm and settled on his other shoulder, and Michael felt the tension in his body fade away almost completely as he was engulfed in Alex’s warmth, his voice, his intoxicating vanilla scent.

“Hmm?”

“Uh . . .” Alex’s brows furrowed, frustrated, even as his eyes fell to Michael’s lips. “I . . . need to . . . find . . .”

Michael smiled lazily. So _this_ was the effect he had on the brilliant military captain. The effect he _still_ had.

Alex shut his eyes tight. “Guerin, we’re on a mission here.”

Michael’s smile fell away. He swallowed. “I can’t stomach the idea of that asshole coming near you, Alex,” he confessed quietly, and Alex met his eyes. “If he touches you –”

“He won’t,” Alex assured him. “I just need to get close enough to plant the listening device. And then we’re done.”

“Yeah?” Michael asked, and raised one hand to cup Alex’s jaw. He didn’t know if it was because he could feel Alex’s heart race against his own chest, or the champagne he’d had, or because Alex was looking at him with those beautiful dark eyes like he wasn’t dating someone else, like Michael had never betrayed him, like they’d always been together, but Michael felt the truth pour out of him, unable and unwilling to stop it.

“And after that?” he said, his thumb brushing Alex’s cheek. “What happens? You go back to Forrest?”

Alex clenched his jaw and looked away. “He’s my boyfriend, Guerin.”

Michael hated that word. He hated that it wasn’t about _him_. He lifted Alex’s chin with his fingers, meeting his eyes. His open mouth hovered over Alex’s lips. “I don’t care,” he breathed.

Alex’s hands curled to fists against his chest. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” he whispered, and reveled in the flutter of Alex’s eyes, in the way his body instinctively curled against Michael’s. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

Michael traced Alex’s jaw with his fingers, his heart hammering. He imagined following the trail with his tongue, the slight roughness of Alex’s stubble against his lips as his other hand ran up and down the airman’s spine.

“You like it when I touch you?” he said into Alex’s ear. “Like it better than anybody else’s hands?”

Alex bit his lower lip as Michael moved closer, his mouth open and more than willing. _It’s the champagne_ , Michael told himself, and knew he was a liar with every word. It was _Alex_ , his touch, his body, his beauty, his scent. Michael didn’t want anyone to come near him without knowing that he was under _his_ protection, that someone fiercely loved him and wouldn’t let him go.

Michael’s fingers came down Alex’s neck, down the soft pulse of his heavy breaths. His chest rose and fell against Michael’s, his eyes hooded and dazed.

If Michael ever wanted to kiss him again, it would have to be now. And he _wanted_ to kiss him. He wanted to pull him into the fancy bathrooms, slip a hand under his shirt, taste his lips, his tongue, his chest, stomach, the space between his legs. He wanted to whisper his worship into the airman’s damp skin, hear his breathy moans in his ear, his pleas. He wanted to feel Alex’s hand in his curls, tugging at the roots, his other on Michael’s hip, pulling him in deeper, deeper, _deeper_ –

“Stop,” Alex breathed, his forehead falling from Michael’s and onto his shoulder, his hands gripping Michael’s arms painfully tight, waking him from his thoughts. “Stop, stop, stop.”

The two panted against each other silently, no longer moving to the music as couples twirled around them. Michael gripped Alex’s waist tightly, keeping him close as he came back to his surroundings, his face heated and his heart thudding painfully against his ribs. He realized he was hard.

“I – I –” he stammered, moving back, but Alex stayed pressed against him.

“Don’t,” he warned quietly. “It’ll show, just – don’t move.”

So Michael stayed still, keeping his hold on Alex as he forced his breaths deeper. Images of himself and Alex in the bathroom, on Alex’s living room couch, or in Michael’s bed – they kept coming back, each more vivid than the last, each forcing Michael to push them back again and replace them with something less enticing.

The champagne was beginning to wear off quickly, and Michael had only enough time to press his nose to Alex’s shoulder and inhale the clean smell of his suit before embarrassment took over and he had to look anywhere else.

“I’m – uh –”

“Don’t,” Alex said and held him tighter, more desperately, and Michael had to remember that it was for discretion and nothing more.

When Michael’s hard-on faded, Alex pull back, his eyes on Michael’s chest instead of his eyes. Michael tried not to feel like an idiot, but he’d gotten hard in the middle of a ballroom while he held his ex who was already dating someone else, and it was a little difficult.

Then Alex said –

“I want to kiss you.” Michael looked to him with wide eyes, and was met with Alex’s dark, piercing gaze. He bit his lower lip, pained as he ran a hand through Michael’s curls in a way that made Michael’s toes curl and his heart stutter. “ _So_ badly.”

Michael leaned in, entranced, _eager_. “Y-Yeah?”

Alex visibly swallowed. “So I guess we’re both the bad guy.”

Michael faltered. Alex had put himself down for being a monster so many times. And _every time_ , Michael had kept silent because he didn’t think any contradiction or praise he had would be taken seriously or with any gratitude. This, he thought, was one time too many.

He leaned in, his lips brushing Alex’s ear. “Not you, Private,” he whispered. “Not like this.”

He pulled back enough to look him in the eyes, Alex’s brows pinched, confused. Michael cupped his jaw.

“But if you’re still dating Forrest _tomorrow_ ,” he growled, and brushed his thumb against Alex’s lips, “I _will_ be the bad guy.”

He let Alex go, charged and wanting, and walked back to the drinks table where Isobel stood with a glass of her own. She raised a knowing brow at him as he leaned against the wall, his hands clenched in his pockets, his eyes on Alex.

“Whatever you did,” Isobel muttered over her drink, “it worked.”

Michael watched with barely contained rage as Swindell seized his chance and made his way to Alex before anybody else could. Alex seemed to come back to himself as Swindell made his introduction. His shoulders straightened and he plastered on a smile that might’ve looked real to anyone who didn’t know him.

Michael hummed. Isobel nudged his arm with hers.

“So,” she said, “you let him go a lot more easily than I thought you would.”

He scoffed bitterly, counting down the seconds as Alex played out his part with all the precision and calculation of the hacker he was.

“I’m coming back for him,” he said, a promise to himself as Alex’s dark eyes glanced at him. “ _No one_ is taking him away from me again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/rinblackmare)   
>  [my ig](https://www.instagram.com/rinblackmare/?hl=en)


	237. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael hears Alex's truth in his songs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is based on two songs; ["Hiding in Your Hands"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXcA0PQQoDE) from the Dear Evan Hansen album (Bonus Track), and ["If You Let Me"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ALz1jro_1jQ) by Beth Crowley.

Alex had had a reputation when they were teenagers. Michael had heard more than a few mutterings about the emo kid with the skull-and-crossbones ring and the black eyeliner.

“Don’t look at him,” girls had frantically whispered to their friends.

“He’s so cute. Too bad he’s one of _those_.”

Michael had wondered what ‘ _one of those_ ’ was supposed to mean, but less-than-subtle stupid jokes from Kyle Valenti and his friends had told him everything he’d needed to know. Alex had been dark and angry and gay, which had made him a source of gossip, which had made him even more dark and angry.

Michael had never had much of an opinion on Alex himself. The guy had looked so serious all the time, trouble etched in the tension of his shoulders, his straight spine, his permanent frown, as if he’d never thought anyone was worth his time – that Michael had known to stay away on his own. He’d had enough trouble to last a lifetime, he hadn’t wanted any more from some probably spoiled kid.

It had been one afternoon though, when the last bell had rung and most of the students had left for the day, that Michael had discovered the truth. He’d heard guitar music coming from the music room, the door opened ajar. But there had been something else. Someone had been singing.

Michael had slowed, and peeked in, curiosity getting the better of him. He had been shocked when he’d seen that the emo kid who he’d rarely heard _speak_ was now playing a guitar and singing a song Michael had never heard before.

But he had, in a way, known it. Alex’s words had spoken of masks, of lies that hid the ugly truth. The perfect veneer of a lovely, happy family, and being the furthest thing from it. Of being unable to tell anyone because who would ever understand? Who would ever listen?

The longer Michael had listened, the more he’d realized how wrong he’d been. He’d recognized that pain in Alex’s words, in the furrow of his brows. His voice had been beautiful and soft and strong and terrified all at the same time. That this lie he lived with, this lie that people saw, that it was going to define him forever. He would forever be under the eyes of those who would never know, and never understand, how bad it really was.

And Michael had suddenly thought of past foster parents who’d pretended to be caring and loving and happy to have him as their son, when the truth was beatings and shouting and pain. And Michael had tried too many times in the past to know that, after a while, trying did nothing. He’d managed to rid himself of that, of the cruelty and abuse and fear, but Alex . . .

It was then Michael had started to notice things about Alex he’d never noticed before. Sometimes he’d scrunch his shoulders, as if pained to move a particular arm or reveal his hip. Sometimes Alex’s eye looked swollen underneath his eyeliner, and sometimes . . . sometimes Alex smiled around Liz and Rosa Ortecho and Maria DeLuca. Sometimes he even laughed, and it was . . . _everything_.

One day Michael had found himself wanting Alex to talk to _him_ , eager for his attention. He had no idea if he was welcome to just walk up to him, and had no idea what he would even say if he could, so he came into the music room. And he found Alex’s guitar, and a stupid thought had occurred to him.

_But it’ll bring Alex to me_ , he’d thought, and that had been good enough.

Since then, Michael had learned that Alex was usually better at communicating with music than words. Where confessing to his pain might’ve felt like a weakness to him, music was just a melody. Whatever people saw in it was up to them. It had been months since he’d last heard him sing, since he’d last heard the truth that he hadn’t told Michael in their conversations or the small smiles he’d given Maria.

That Michael was Alex’s home, that Alex was his, that he was tired of being on opposite sides when all either of them wanted was to be together.

Michael hadn’t responded then, hadn’t even stayed for the whole song. But he’d never stopped wondering if there was any other truth Alex had sacrificed for the happiness of the people he loved.

Until he was witness to another one.

He’d come to the bunker just as work had ended, the sun setting and casting the desert into gold. Michael had gotten word from an exasperated Kyle that Alex was still at the bunker, looking through the remaining Project Shepherd files they had left.

“Yeah, he’s there,” Kyle had said with a sigh. “And on his only day off, too. He’s been running himself into the ground for you, so try to get him to rest, okay?”

Michael had ended the call without a word, but had no sooner gotten into his truck and all but slammed on the gas pedal, eager to see Alex. Something about hearing his voice, having his attention, his dark piercing eyes, it helped Michael breathe better.

When he’d gotten there though, the door was open ajar, and Alex was sitting at a table with a guitar in his hands. The workspace before him was littered with stacks of files, reports with official stamps, and two different computers with green coding from top to bottom.

Alex’s weary shoulders slumped, his eyes remained closed as he played, his voice soft and sad, as if lacking the energy to pretend to be anything else.

Michael’s steps came to a stop at the doorway. Alex didn’t seem to notice him, the biggest mark of his exhaustion, as he sang. His voice, as beautiful and melodic as ever, filled Michael with a warmth down to his bones, to the very core of his heart, and left him weak.

And in Alex’s song, Michael heard his airman’s truth.

A song of lost love, of a love Alex never wanted to stop fighting for. He understood why Michael would choose someone like Maria, a pretty picture, everything a man could want, but Alex wanted Michael anyway. He could love him, hold him, protect him, as he deserved.

Michael’s eyes burned as Alex’s song confessed that Forrest couldn’t measure up to the cowboy, that _no one_ could, that Alex only ever wanted to love – that he only ever _could_ love – one man, and that was Michael. If only Michael let him.

It left Michael wondering about their past, of all the times he’d gone where Alex had wanted. Hadn’t that been the same as asking Alex to stay? As giving himself over completely?

But it had never cost Michael anything like it had cost Alex to keep coming back, to keep trying, to keep confessing what he felt only to keep getting his heart broken. As Alex sung, Michael realized the saddest truth of all; Alex still didn’t know that Michael had been his since before they’d ever spoken.

Alex finished strumming, his brows furrowed as if he was in pain, the kind of pain he didn’t dare show anyone else. After all this time, Alex still didn’t feel like he was allowed to be honest about how he felt.

Michael felt a tear roll down his cheek, and reached up to wipe it away, unwilling to look away from Alex. He sniffled as he shouldered himself in. Alex looked up, unsurprised.

“I thought I heard someone.”

Michael stopped at the foot of the stairs. “You knew I was listening?”

“You’re not really subtle, Guerin,” Alex said with a smile as he set his guitar down. The guitar he’d tried to give Michael before, and which had been so cruelly returned to him. He didn’t seem bothered about holding it now.

Alex raised a brow. “You okay?”

Michael started to nod, but the suffocating truth overcame him, and he ended up shaking his head. “Alex, what you just said –”

“It was just a song,” he said readily, his smile unfaltering.

And the thing was, if Michael didn’t know Alex as well as he did, if he hadn’t memorized every slight change in that beautiful face, if he hadn’t learned what pain in those dark eyes looked like, he might’ve believed that Alex was okay. But . . .

“You’re lying,” he said, his voice hoarse to his own ears. “You – Alex, you . . .”

Alex’s smile softened to something sadder, something more resigned, as he handed over a file for Michael to look over.

“It was just a song, Guerin,” he said gently, as if Michael was the one whose heart had been bleeding into his music only seconds ago.

But then Michael noticed the circles around Alex’s eyes were darker than usual, his cheeks hollower, his hair more of a perfect mess, his fingers trembling as if he’d had too much coffee to force himself awake. And he knew that despite the strength in Alex’s voice, he was barely holding together.

_It’s time to go back to the lie now,_ Alex seemed to be saying. _The truth only hurts me, and I’m too tired to hurt any more today._

In his song, Alex had asked if Michael would let him love him. If he would let Alex take care of him, hold him. Michael wanted it.

Instead of taking the file, Michael reached out and turned Alex’s chair so that they were facing each other. Alex frowned, startled.

“Guerin, what –”

“C’mere,” he said, tugging on Alex’s hand, the airman’s fingers cold in his. Michael kissed them. “Come on, c’mere.”

Confused, Alex stood and came up to Michael until their knees were touching. Michael tugged him down, and Alex’s eyes widened.

“You’re _kidding_.”

Michael’s lips quirked up. “Sit down, Private.”

“Guerin –”

“Come on, Alex,” he said. “Don’t you want to?”

Alex swallowed and looked around, as if to make sure no one could see what they were doing. Then he bit his lower lip, hesitant, and slowly sat down on Michael’s lap.

Michael brought an arm around his back, his hand running up and down Alex’s spine as Alex’s head settled on his shoulder. His other hand was on Alex’s thigh, keeping him safe and warm against him.

Alex exhaled shakily against Michael’s shirt, his hot breath sending a wave of relief throughout Michael’s body. Alex was here, with him, and for now it was all the comfort he needed.

“This is stupid, I –” Alex tried. “I don’t need this.”

_Yes, you do_ , Michael thought, but instead kissed Alex’s red cheek softly, then raised his lips to Alex’s hair.

“I need it,” Michael whispered, settling on another truth. “I need to feel you.”

Alex clutched his shirt tightly and said nothing, and Michael realized he didn’t always need music to know how Alex was feeling.


	238. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex tells Michael he smells good.

Michael never wanted to wake up.

The night had had a miserable beginning. Michael had been tossing and turning for the better part of three hours, had gone down into his bunker for the next two, but no matter what he did, the image of Alex lying unconscious haunted him and made his fingers tremble.

Their last confrontation with Mr. Jones had left them little more than bruised, but the image of Alex lying there, limp and unresponsive, made him antsy. In the end, his thoughts were too overwhelming, and he found himself pulling up into Alex’s driveway.

Michael tapped his thumb against the steering wheel. He shouldn’t have been there, he shouldn’t have come to bother an already restless airman, especially after having just healed. But his jaw was still clenched and his bones were vibrating, and if he didn’t see Alex soon, his mind would implode.

He stepped out of his truck, exhaling slowly. He raised his fist to knock on the front door, and paused. What if Alex really was asleep? What if Michael knocked and woke him up just to make sure that he was still alive, and then he had trouble going back to sleep? What if he was still healing, and Michael dragging him to the door slowed that down?

Michael pursed his lips. If he let himself in, he could check on Alex himself without the risk of bothering him. Keeping that thought in mind, the desire to see Alex breathing and resting safe so strong it nearly swallowed his heart and left a gaping hole in his chest, Michael undid the lock and silently swung the door open.

He was careful not to make a sound as he walked the dark hallway. He was just starting to wonder whether or not he remembered where Alex’s bedroom was when he came upon the scene in the wide living room, and he stopped.

There, nestled in a bunch of blankets on the carpet in front of the lit fireplace, was Alex. His back was to the door, so Michael assumed he’d turned over in his sleep. He wore a thick black hoodie, his face half-turned into his pillow, his cheeks red.

Michael stared, feeling like his heart had lodged somewhere in his throat. First thing was first, Michael’s eyes fell to Alex’s chest, and he sighed with relief as it rose and fell with every deep breath he took. Alex’s brows weren’t furrowed in pain, his lips weren’t turned in a discomforted frown, and his body was, for once, not tense and awaiting an attack. He was safe, at peace. So warm and comfy that Michael’s legs moved him forward of their own accord. He didn’t stop until his boots were just in front of the heavy duvet.

Michael could hear his own breathing in his ears, and before he realized what he was doing, he toed off his boots, took off his black hat, and laid down next to Alex. He bit his lower lip hard enough to bleed as he pressed his chest to Alex’s back, putting a hand on his waist.

“Mmh?” Alex stirred, already alert and moving to sit up. When he saw Michael, he narrowed his eyes. “Guerin?”

Michael felt like his cheeks were on fire. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and timid to his own ears. “I – I couldn’t sleep.” _I wanted to check on you,_ he tried to say and couldn’t. _I was worried._

But, as he always managed to do, Alex heard the truth in Michael’s words and his shoulders fell. Michael’s hand was still on Alex’s waist, and his grip tightened on his hoodie. He didn’t want to be asked to go, to be reassured that Alex was okay only to leave him again.

Alex must’ve been too tired to say anything about it though because he covered Michael’s hand on his waist with his own as if in silent assurance, and turned back around, laying down in his blankets. Michael hesitated before he laid down, too. When Alex didn’t tense up or send him away, Michael dared to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him in unbearably close. He pressed his nose against the back of Alex’s head, inhaling his vanilla scent.

He exhaled deeply, feeling all the tension that had been building up since the attack fade away with the light crackle of the flames and Alex’s soft breathing.

He was sure he wasn’t very comfortable to sleep against. He was still wearing his jeans and jacket, and he’d been working out tirelessly in the sun all day, trying to distract himself from Alex’s condition. But if Alex had any complaints, he wasn’t saying.

In fact, at one point, just as Michael was beginning to drift off himself, Alex turned in his hold and nuzzled Michael’s neck, slipping a hand under his jacket to wrap around his own waist. Michael’s heart hammered in his chest as Alex breathed against him, his lips against Michael’s collarbone, Michael’s own lips against his soft hair. Michael thought he might die with the warmth of Alex’s body against his own, holding onto him as if he was the world’s most comfortable pillow.

Then –

“You smell so good,” Alex murmured, the sound as faint as a kitten purring.

Michael swallowed, at a loss. He’d been mocked and scolded and occasionally insulted for the way he smelled, even by people he’d wanted to impress. Dirt and grease and bourbon. He’d always shrugged or laughed it off like it never bothered him. And for the most part, it didn’t. But sometimes, when his muscles ached from having been stuck under a hood most of the day, or his temples throbbed from having stared at calculations and projections and star alignments in his bunker for the entire night, the constant jabs stung a little. He was different, he was dirty, he was _separate_ from everyone else. There was always something to point out, even his scent. But Alex . . . Alex never talked about him like he smelled, like he was stupid – like he belonged on the outside. Alex always talked to him like he was desperately trying to hold onto him, to keep him close. Like the grease and bourbon and rain was something so inherently _Michael_ , so inherently wonderful and worth taking note of.

_You belong with me,_ he always seemed to be saying, even in his disappointment whenever Michael couldn’t believe it himself. _Don’t you want to belong with me?_

And Michael did. More than anything. Through everything, it was the one thing he’d always wanted.

He wrapped his arms more tightly around Alex, holding him closer. “Yeah?” he whispered.

“Mm hm,” Alex hummed, curling in deeper against Michael as if trying to take in as much of him as possible, eager and wanting and loving. Michael ran a hand up Alex’s spine, and was rewarded with a faint whimper. He used his powers to raise the blanket to Alex’s shoulders, keeping him warm.

Ever since he’d met Alex, he’d had this protective instinct that he hadn’t experienced with anyone else. It was consuming, it made his heart race, and if it meant getting to have Alex like this, then he wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

Michael’s eyes fluttered shut as he held Alex in his arms, the gold light and crackle of the flames their only companion in the darkness, and he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/rinblackmare)   
>  [my ig](https://www.instagram.com/rinblackmare/?hl=en)


	239. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael thinks Alex is dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: he's not.

Michael couldn’t feel his fingers. Whether that was because of the restraints on his wrists, keeping him pinned to the steel chair, or the yellow pollen Mr. Jones kept pumping into him, he didn’t know and didn’t care.

“They’re sure taking their time,” Max’s evil twin muttered as he paced. Michael looked to his right where Max, restrained and pale, was looking over at Michael’s left where Isobel sat with concern. Isobel, on the other hand, was just glaring at Mr. Jones, the dark circles around her eyes prominent.

“Who’re we supposed to be waiting for?” she demanded. She might’ve sounded a lot more threatening if she didn’t look like she was about to throw up. “Got more psycho friends?”

Michael scoffed, feeling nauseous himself. “Probably Project Shepherd soldiers.”

Mr. Jones stopped and eyed Michael with amusement. “Soldiers. That’s an interesting way to put it. Is that what you call Alex to his face?”

Michael’s heart jumped into his throat despite the heavy thudding. In the corner of his eyes, he could see Max and Isobel’s expressions turn wary, too, but Mr. Jones only smiled like he was glad they had understood.

But it couldn’t be. Alex had told Michael that he would be with Liz at the lab today, helping her with research. Michael had never told him where he was or what he was planning to do, afraid that Alex would insist on coming along to protect him.

“Alex doesn’t know I’m here,” Michael said, the threat evident to his own ears.

“None of them do,” Max thundered.

“Oh,” he tutted, “you underestimate your friends. ‘Specially Manes. That man is _clever_.”

And Mr. Jones reached into Max’s pocket and pulled out his phone despite Max fighting against his restraints. He touched the screen and the small thing came to life.

“And early!” he smiled. Michael opened his mouth to demand to know what he was planning when he turned the phone to show them.

For a moment, there was nothing but various corners of the caves, dark and empty. Then, to Michael’s horror, Alex came into view. He was alone, his gun up and aimed, ready for an attack.

Michael sat up with a gasp, trembling. Mr. Jones was still watching the footage, smiling. “Y’know how I _know_ this Manes is different from the others? When he found out you were in danger, Michael,” he laughed, “well, he just came _running_! Which is not an easy feat for someone like him. Get it? ‘Cause he has no leg.”

“Don’t,” Michael breathed, knowing the words sounded like a plea and not caring as he followed Alex on the screen with his eyes. “Don’t touch him, don’t – don’t hurt him.”

Mr. Jones tilted his head at Michael. “You sound _scared_ , brother.”

“ _Please_ ,” Max said through grit teeth, his veins popping as he fought against the chair. “Please, he has nothing to do with this.”

“Just let him go,” Isobel tried, her wide eyes glancing between Alex on the screen and Mr. Jones. “Please.”

He hummed, taking in their fear, their panic, like refreshing air. “See,” he said serenely, “I wish I could help you. I really wish he had nothing to do with this.” His eyes darkened and his smile tightened. “But that airman has been a _thorn_ in my side since the beginning, and I’m afraid . . . he’s a little too clever for his own good.”

“No,” Michael shook his head, his eyes burning. “ _Please_!”

“ _So_ –”

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!”

Mr. Jones put a hand on the cave wall, and his smile widened. “I’m getting rid of the threat.”

The cave suddenly shook all around them and the siblings’ chairs threatened to topple over, but Michael’s wide, terrified eyes stayed on Alex.

Alex looked around, screamed something incoherent, and the ceiling collapsed.

“NO!” Michael screamed. The screen turned to black for one second, two, three . . .

“Alex,” Michael murmured, every nerve on edge. “Alex . . .”

The screen came back on, and Michael’s world stilled. There, buried under the rocks, was an arm in a pool of blood. Michael couldn’t even see the rest of his airman.

He heard one sharp exhale escape his lips, the rest of his body numb. He was sure his heart was racing, but he felt outside of himself, watching the scene play out before him like the worst nightmare. Because that’s what this was, it was what it _had_ to be. A nightmare. Alex, _his_ Alex, couldn’t be . . . he couldn’t be . . .

Mr. Jones tossed the phone back onto a stunned Max’s lap, Isobel’s eyes filling with tears. He said something about how much easier that was than he thought it’d be, but Michael couldn’t hear him. His jaw clenched so tightly he tasted blood, but he didn’t care.

_Alex . . . Alex . . ._

The man who’d offered him a safe place after Michael had stolen his guitar, who smiled at him like he thought he was cute, never caring that he lived in his truck and had no family or money, who came back to Michael again and again, hoping for a confession that never came. Michael never told him how much he loved him, how much he wanted him. He never told him that he would’ve stayed for him.

His siblings were trying to call for him, but they sounded like they were underwater.

_Alex . . . Alex . . ._

Michael screamed, and the cavern shook. Mr. Jones’s smile fell away as he grabbed the wall to keep steady.

“That’s not possible,” he said. “You have the pollen, your powers aren’t supposed to –”

Michael didn’t listen, didn’t care. He had to get out of these restraints, to dig Alex out of the rubble. He was alive, he had to be. But in the end, the pollen he’d been injected with was too much. In the end, Michael couldn’t do more than make the cave shake before the yellow pollen he’d been injected with started to overwhelm him. In the end, when it mattered most, he failed the love of his life.

He hunched over, heaving. A tear fell down the bridge of his nose as his eyes burned, his muscles felt like fire, his bones like lead.

“Alex . . .” he breathed.

Mr. Jones’s grabbed his curls by the roots and roughly yanked his head up. Michael heard Isobel scream and Max curse at Mr. Jones to let his brother go, but Michael was in a haze. He would never see Alex driving into the junkyard again, never see Alex’s smile again, never see Alex’s dark eyes or hear his beautiful voice or touch his soft, warm skin.

“How’d you do that?” Mr. Jones growled viciously in his face. “Your powers shouldn’t have worked at all. HOW’D YOU DO THAT?!”

Suddenly, Mr. Jones screamed, stumbling back. Michael’s eyes, dazed and blurry, looked up to find Alex towering over the psychotic alien, a syringe in hand. Another had already been jabbed into Mr. Jones’s neck.

“A-Alex!” Isobel gasped.

“Liz!” Max called, and Michael vaguely noticed that Liz had run up to Max, undoing his restraints.

But he couldn’t focus on her. Because there he was, his Alex, sticking the other syringe into Mr. Jones’s arm. Mr. Jones flinched violently, his eyes on Alex full of shock and hate as he collapsed. Alex waited to watch him pass out from the pain before he crouched in front of Michael, his hands gentle as he quickly undid the restraints on his ankles and wrists.

Up close, Michael saw that Alex’s jaw, cheeks, lips, and hands were cut into by the rocks, some leaking trails of blood that Alex didn’t seem to notice.

“Alex . . .” he murmured.

“You were supposed to wait!” Liz said to him.

“He was hurting Michael,” Alex said darkly, no remorse or hesitation in his eyes at what he’d done.

“B-But,” Isobel stammered, her teary eyes on Alex, “we – we saw you, your arm –”

“We got a text from Michael’s phone that you guys were here,” Liz explained, “but Alex knew it was a trap right away.”

“You said you needed me,” Alex scoffed as he managed to free Michael’s legs. “Like you would ever admit that.”

“It was his plan,” Liz continued, “all of it. He told me to stay in the shadows while he walked out into the open, and he kept the prosthetic arm and a bag of blood under his jacket.”

“No other way to kill me in a cave than a collapse,” Alex muttered. “It was common sense.”

“And you saw the camera,” Max finished, staring at Liz with narrowed eyes, as if trying to properly see her through all the pollen in his system. “So you hid Alex while he left the decoy.”

Alex nodded, undoing one of Michael’s wrists. They both worked on the last one. “We got here just when the cave started to shake again. It was a little startling, but – _ah_!”

Alex’s words were cut off as Michael had roughly undone the last restraint and tackled him, clawing up the airman’s chest and wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

“You’re okay,” he breathed, pushing one hand roughly into Alex’s hair, his other running down his back. Tears kept falling down his cheeks and onto Alex’s jacket, but he couldn’t and didn’t care to stop them. “You’re okay.”

The rocky terrain must’ve been hell on Alex’s legs, especially with Michael basically adding on his own weight, but Michael couldn’t pull away.

“I – I thought,” he trembled, holding Alex painfully tight. “Alex. My Alex.”

Alex’s hands came to slowly rest on Michael’s back, his touch more hesitant, as if too surprised to do anything more. Michael clenched his jaw, and cried against Alex’s neck, “Please hold me, baby, _please_.”

He heard Alex’s soft gasp against his ear, and he hugged Michael back just as tightly. “I’m okay,” he said. “I’m sorry, I – I had to do it, to make him think he’d won. I’m sorry, Guerin. I’m okay.”

Michael buried his face in the crook of Alex’s neck and could not let him go. His vanilla scent was faint but real under the damp stone and metallic smell of blood.

Michael pulled back just enough to hold Alex’s face, using his thumb to brush away a drop of blood that had been making its way down Alex’s cheek, mixing with an escaped tear.

“I’ll patch you up,” he said. “I’ll never let anything hurt you again.”

Alex huffed a weary chuckle. “ _You’re_ the one whose been injected with pollen. How about we patch you up first?”

“No,” Michael said immediately, stubbornly, refusing to let go of Alex for a single second. “You’re more important.”

Alex blinked, startled, and shook his head. He pulled Michael in again, and Michael allowed himself to sigh with relief against him. He had the airman’s chest against his own, his racing heart, his warm skin, his beautiful lips.

Max and Isobel and Liz were moving around them, trying to figure out how to carry Mr. Jones out with them. Liz, apparently, had a lot more syringes, just in case. Even Alex was trying to navigate a plan with Michael still in his arms, pressed against him.

Michael couldn’t care about any of it, not with his face in Alex’s neck, his arms around Alex’s waist, his lips against Alex’s collarbone, breathing him in. Michael would never let him go again. Not for anything.


	240. Forlex & Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael walks in to find Alex sleeping on Forrest's lap.

Forrest hadn’t done it on purpose. If anything, thinking back, he was willing to blame Michael Guerin for the whole thing.

It was late afternoon, the wind cold but Forrest’s little rooms on the farm were toasty. Alex had come over to find him cleaning the horses, and with only a smile that left the historian embarrassingly weak in the knees, had grabbed a brush and gone to help. They’d sat down barely for five minutes with their mugs of hot tea to ward off the winter chill when Alex bit his lip, hesitant, and laid his head down on Forrest’s lap.

Forrest could only smile to himself as he brushed a gentle hand through Alex’s soft hair, reveling in the dark locks between his fingers. As Alex drifted off to sleep, a mark of his exhaustion, Forrest’s hand still in his hair, the tension in his shoulders faded.

Forrest thought of the past love in Alex’s life, the one he’d sung about at a bar full of cowboys, the one that sometimes seemed to haunt his memories even during the day, the one he sometimes unwittingly murmured about in his sleep. Forrest had never mentioned it the next morning, as Alex had always looked so ashamed of himself. Because he’d never been able to completely let go.

Forrest knew who it was, _who_ had broken Alex’s heart and left him wondering if he even deserved love at all anymore. He just couldn’t figure out how anyone could do it. As Alex all but purred under his touch, overcome with a look of peace he rarely had, he thought, _How_ could anyone have turned their back on him? On someone so beautiful, so good . . .

That was when he’d gotten the text. Checking first to make sure the notification hadn’t woken Alex, Forrest reached for his phone and read the message.

 _Guerin._ He was asking Forrest if he still had the files Alex had given him to look over. Because Alex had believed that Forrest’s eagerness for history would prove helpful, and Forrest had never wanted to be more useful to anyone before. Michael had been opposed to it from the beginning, but Forrest knew that what he did with the files themselves didn’t matter to the cowboy as much as it bothered him that Alex had wanted him involved.

Regardless, Forrest had taken his notes and set some books aside to study that might’ve correlated with the dates on the files, and if it meant giving Michael one less reason to hate him, it worked fine by him. So he texted back, and said that he would bring by the files tomorrow.

 _No,_ Michael had sent back at once, just to be stubborn. _I’ll come get them myself._

Forrest tensed. He tried texting Michael that he couldn’t come over, that he was busy, that if someone saw him, they might get the wrong idea. But either Michael had turned his phone off or he was purposely ignoring him because not fifteen minutes later, a knock came at the door.

Forrest flinched. Had Michael already been on his way? He grit his teeth and looked down at Alex, but a true testament to the airman’s rough couple of weeks, he only stirred before cuddling deeper into Forrest’s lap.

Forrest considered not answering, pretending he wasn’t here, but he _knew_ that if he tried that, Michael would just break the door down. And experience had taught him that it was not safe to wake a military captain that way. That, and the fact that Forrest couldn’t remember the last time Alex had slept, forced the historian to make a difficult choice.

The impatient knock came again as Forrest very carefully covered Alex’s exposed ear with his hand, hoping to at least muffle some of the noise and that it would be enough to let him sleep through the whole interaction.

“Come in,” he said, and the door swung open. Forrest was only glad it hadn’t hit the wall.

Michael walked in, a humorless smirk at his lips. “Well, Nazi guy –”

“ _Shh_!” Forrest hissed at once, and Michael’s eyes fell on Alex first. His words cut off. Forrest shifted uncomfortably and grabbed a blanket, pulling it up to Alex’s shoulders to keep him warm from the cold air now drifting in through the wide-open door.

Michael wasn’t moving, wasn’t speaking, wasn’t teasing. His eyes darkened as he took Alex in, curled up and comfortable for what was probably the first time in _years_. Forrest couldn’t help but feel a little bad for the cowboy as his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, like he desperately wanted to touch, but knew he wasn’t allowed.

To be merciful, and for so many other reasons that felt a little more selfish, Forrest nudged his chin at the small stack of files on the table in the corner.

“They’re right there,” he said quietly. “Just take ‘em.”

But it was as if Michael couldn’t hear him. His eyes were fixed on Alex, lost and confused, as if he couldn’t have imagined Alex ever resting, especially not with his head on someone’s lap. He was an airman, he was trained, he was _traumatized_. He didn’t trust anyone enough for something like that.

Except that he did. He trusted Forrest. And he had once trusted Michael, but that trust was shattered now. It looked like Michael was just starting to realize that.

“Guerin,” he said again, more firmly this time. He couldn’t risk Alex waking up and being upset, not when he’d been so content all day. “Take the files.”

Michael’s jaw was clenched so tightly Forrest wondered if he tasted blood. His nose twitched and he drew himself up. Forrest half-expected him to attack. But then he turned and grabbed the files, and without another glance at Alex, he stormed out.

Forrest tensed up when Alex stirred in his sleep and turned over onto his other side, but Alex only nuzzled his hip and clung to his sweater. He sighed deeply, and Forrest allowed himself a breath of relief.

When he couldn’t hear Michael’s truck anymore, he settled back onto the couch.

“That cowboy of yours is going to give me stress dreams, you know,” he murmured, bringing his hand back into Alex’s hair and gently brushing the strands back. The corners of his lips quirked up. “But it’s worth it to keep you. I’m never going to let you forget that, Alex. That you’re worth it.”

No matter who he stood against, Forrest wouldn’t let anyone take Alex away. Not without a fight.


	241. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow-up to 240.

Michael never showed up at the Crashdown for dinner. Alex had waited a good two hours, every call and text ignored, before he’d had enough and decided to go wake him from whatever zone he’d worked himself into.

He imagined him in the bunker, tinkering away and lost in whatever research he was doing. He’d known the cowboy to get busy enough to completely lose track of time, had been guilty of that more than once himself. Alex had known to come to Michael himself in the past, but he’d spent such a nice afternoon with Forrest and wasn’t in the mood to be made fun of on Michael’s property. Not tonight, when he felt so at peace, like he rarely did.

He parked in the junkyard, and slumped in his seat, imagining all the snide remarks he’d have to endure. Before Forrest, he hadn’t minded. He’d accepted the mockery so long as he got to see Michael, to hear his voice, to see his handsome smile, however bitter and cruel it was. But then Forrest had shown him kindness, respect, trust, _love_. He’d shown Alex that there was someone willing to fight for him, and it wasn’t the cowboy.

Now if only someone would explain that to his heart.

Alex stepped out of his car, already on his way to the bunker, when he heard a rustling from inside the airstream. He frowned. If Michael hadn’t been tinkering in his bunker, what _had_ he been doing?

Then Alex heard a woman’s high-pitched giggling and he froze. He should’ve known. He pinched the bridge of his nose before he opened the airstream door and walked inside.

The woman that had been there, some blonde Alex didn’t know or care to know, sat up with a gasp, holding up her shirt to hide her bare chest. Michael, on the other hand, didn’t seem surprised as he slumped with a sigh against the headboard.

“Kate, Alex,” he said, rubbing his eye. “Alex, Kate.”

Kate’s wide eyes raked Alex up and down. “ _Wow_ ,” she breathed.

Alex smiled dryly. “Kate, was it? Sorry, I really need to talk to Michael.”

Kate looked down at Michael as if just realizing that that was his name.

“Actually,” Michael said, unperturbed. “You don’t. You have a boyfriend, you can go talk to him.”

Alex kept his steady gaze on Kate until she seemed to realize he wouldn’t be asking again, and she quickly threw her shirt on before hurrying out past him.

Michael’s head fell back against his pillows. “Thanks a lot.”

“She was pretty,” he said.

“Not prettier than me though, right?”

Alex pressed his lips together. “And late. We were supposed to meet at the Crashdown, remember? Important files, research, Mr. Jones – any of this ringing a bell?”

Michael sat up, smirking bitterly. “Right,” he said. “Dinner. At the Crashdown. Just you and me. Must’ve slipped my mind.”

Alex shook his head, his arms crossed. “What’s going on with you? You wouldn’t just ditch like that unless something was seriously wrong.”

Michael glanced at him, the false humor in his expression cracking to reveal something darker underneath, something _sadder_. His smile was gone.

“Me?” he said. “Nothing’s wrong with me. What about you? You looked good today. _Cozy._ ”

Alex frowned. “What’re you talking about? This is the first time we’re seeing each other.” At Michael’s look, the poorly concealed angry jealousy Alex had been able to spot since Michael had walked into the Crashdown one noon to find Alex and Forrest talking, Alex was able to put the pieces together.

His shoulders fell. “Unless it’s not,” he said. “You came by the farm?”

Michael held up a finger, but wouldn’t look at Alex as he said, “Clever, Private. Yeah, I came by the farm. I wanted the files you trusted to that boyfriend of yours, and you want to know what I found?”

Alex leaned against a counter. “You’re going to tell me either way.”

“Forrest,” he said, “on the couch, and _you_ curled up on his lap. Asleep.”

Alex nodded slowly. “Okay?”

Michael stood, on edge. “I’ve never even _seen_ you sleep. And he gets to have you on his lap?!”

Alex’s heart thudded. The possessiveness in Michael’s voice, in everything from his stance to his dark gaze, shouldn’t have made his heart hammer and his cheeks burn, but he couldn’t help it.

Instead he looked down, pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth. He tried to be annoyed with Michael’s jealousy, to be angry, but he couldn’t help but understand.

“You know,” he said calmly, “I felt the exact same way whenever Maria held your hand or kissed you.” Michael stilled. “The difference between you and me though, Guerin, is that I didn’t want you to feel bad for how I felt. But you won’t even _try_ to grant me that same courtesy.”

Michael clenched his jaw. “But Forrest –”

“Is my boyfriend, just like you said. Did I go sleeping with other people whenever I got upset with what _you_ guys were doing, just to hurt you?”

Hope flashed in Michael’s eyes and he took a step closer. Alex’s eyes fell to his naked chest for a split second and he registered the scent of alcohol on Michael’s breath.

“So it hurt you?” he demanded. “You’re jealous, too?”

“No.”

“But you’re _hurt_ ,” he insisted. “You feel something for me.”

Alex shook his head. “Back away, Guerin.”

Michael put an arm around his waist and yanked him in against him. “You know you can touch me, right? You’re the only one I’ll let touch me.”

“Let me go.”

“Touch me, baby,” he breathed, nuzzling Alex’s cheek even as he turned away. “I want you to.”

Alex finally grabbed Michael’s face in both hands, forcing him to meet his eyes. “ _Stop_.”

Michael was still breathing heavily, but something in his eyes focused as Alex stared back at him. A growl escaped his lips and he pushed Alex against the wall.

“So that’s it, huh?” he said. “You found someone better, so you’re done with me?”

Alex’s hands fell to Michael’s chest. He thought he should be afraid. If anyone else had grabbed him like this, he would’ve had them pinned to the floor in under a second, begging for mercy. But Michael was different, his touch did something different to Alex’s body. It gave him thoughts he knew he shouldn’t be having.

“Calm down,” he said. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Michael’s chest rose and fell rapidly under Alex’s fingers. “Then kiss me.”

“I can’t,” he said.

“Break up with Forrest,” he pleaded.

“Shh.” Alex put a hand in Michael’s curls and pulled him in against him. He felt Michael breathing shakily against the crook of his neck, and his own eyes fluttered shut. He rested his chin on Michael’s shoulder. “You knew I’d come here, didn’t you?”

“Worked, didn’t it?’ he murmured, holding Alex tighter until he could feel Michael’s heart race against his chest. “You’re with me instead of him.”

“Guerin –”

“I can’t do what you did, Alex,” he said. “I can’t pretend it doesn’t bother me.”

Alex felt the press of an open-mouthed kiss against the side of his neck. He gasped softly, and the sound spurred Michael on. He bit at the skin, taking it between his lips and sucking.

“A-ah,” Alex moaned before he could help it.

“ _Baby_ ,” Michael groaned and grinded his hips into Alex’s before sucking harder. He snaked a hand up Alex’s shirt and scratched his waist.

Alex shut his eyes tight and forced himself to place his hands on Michael’s shoulders. He pushed him back.

“Don’t,” he breathed, covering the place Michael had kissed with his hand. “Don’t.”

“Alex,” Michael panted. “C-Come on, it’s me.”

Alex began to nod hazily as Michael moved back in, but ended up shaking his head, pulling away. “No,” he said. “ _No_.”

“Why not?” Michael asked. “Why not, Alex? Because of Forrest?”

“He cares about me,” Alex tried. “He – he loves me, and I . . .” Alex cut himself off before the words could leave his lips. Michael seemed to hear them anyway, and he froze, looking at Alex as if he’d been shot.

“You what?” he said. Alex saw the anger rising in his eyes. “You _what_ , Alex?!”

Alex swallowed and turned away. “I shouldn’t have come.”

Alex opened the door and made it to his car before he realized it was sealed shut. He clenched his jaw. “Let me leave, Guerin.”

“No,” Michael stepped out, his nose twitching. “You’re not going back to him.”

Alex huffed. “Fine, then I’ll walk back.”

Michael looked startled for a split second before he angrily followed Alex. “You’ll hurt yourself if you do that!”

“Then I hurt myself!”

“ _Alex_!”

“Give me my car, then!” Alex snapped.

Michael looked between Alex and the car, a little helpless. “I – I don’t want you to leave.”

Alex scoffed miserably, shaking his head. “It’s not fair,” he finally said, the desperation evident in his own ears. “I tried _so_ hard for you.”

“I told you,” he said. “I can’t –”

“Not about Maria,” he cut him off, and Michael fell silent. “Every time I came back, I _tried_. When I told you that looking away kills me, when I – I told you that I loved you and wanted to know you, when I came in the middle of the night to tell you how sorry I was, that – that leaving had been a mistake, when I told you _why_ – _I was trying_!”

He huffed. “And every single time, you played it off like it was nothing. You acted like nothing I said or felt mattered. I found out you were building a damn spaceship to leave the planet, and you wouldn’t give me a _day_ to think! I said I didn’t want to get in your way, and you ran back to _her_. I – I admitted that what I saw in the mirror scared me, and a week later, you tell me that you’d rather be with one of my best friends than me.”

His voice cracked despite himself. “I was _kidnapped_ by my own family, and I – I get why you wanted me to stay there, I do, but . . . you wouldn’t even stay with me. You just left me and went back to your girlfriend like nothing happened. Did I even _matter_ to you before Maria broke things off? Yeah, don’t think I didn’t hear about that.” He roughly wiped at his cheek where a tear had escaped. “And now, now what? You want me to get into bed with you as if none of that ever happened? Be grateful that you want me again?” He shook his head. “That’s how little you think of me?”

“ _No_!” Michael said at once, his eyes glistening. He tried to take a step towards Alex, but Alex moved back. He was _tired_. Tired of doing whatever others wanted him to do, tired of wracking his brain, wondering how the people he loved would want him to act. He never had to do that with Forrest. He never had to lie with Forrest, and he was _tired_ of lying.

Michael’s eyes widened, horrified. Alex couldn’t remember the last time he’d run away from him, but it had gone on long enough.

“If you care about me at all,” he said, “you’ll let me leave.”

Michael fidgeted where he stood, his breathing getting faster. Alex fought against every fiber in his being that urged him to close the distance between them and hold Michael until he felt better.

Finally, Michael said, “Y-You’ll come back?”

Alex swallowed back a sob. He nodded. Michael looked only a little reassured, but kept his eyes on Alex as he let the car door swing open.

Alex went to get in, but Michael closed the distance between them at lightning speed and put his hand on the door. “You’re coming back,” he reminded him. “I’m waiting.”

“Guerin –”

“I’m waiting, Alex,” he said again, his fingers trembling, his body inching towards Alex’s despite itself, like he was having an internal battle of his own.

Before he could read too much into it, Alex said, “I’ll be back in the morning.” At Michael’s insistent look, he sighed silently. “Before I see Forrest.”

Only that seemed to satisfy Michael, and he stepped back, letting Alex get in. As he drove away, he kept glancing at his rearview mirror, at the ever-stubborn cowboy, watching him until the night swallowed him up.

At a stoplight, Alex’s forehead fell onto the steering wheel with a half-hearted groan.

“Damn it, Guerin,” he muttered, unable to help but think of the cowboy’s hands on his waist, his skin, his lips on his neck. It took everything in him not to turn back and kiss him senseless.

Then he thought of Forrest, of kindness, of actual care, and knew the two were as different as night and day. He could trust Forrest to stay with him, to _fight_ for him. He couldn’t trust Michael to do the same. He’d thought he was the one who’d abandoned Michael all those years ago. He was starting to think it was more than that, that maybe he’d been left behind, too.

“I choose Forrest,” he muttered before he could stop it. But then, why would he want to?

Michael had already chosen someone else. Maria had chosen herself. Liz had chosen Maria. Kyle had chosen his popularity, and his dad had chosen his brothers. Wasn’t Alex entitled to one selfish decision?

He slumped in his seat, his eyes on the dark road ahead, the stars above asking if he was sure.

“I am,” he breathed, feeling like some monumental weight had been lifted off his chest. “I choose Forrest.”


	242. Forlex & Kylex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle is the only one of Alex's friends who likes Forrest.

Alex tugged the hem of his jacket, staring out the window at the neon sign of the Wild Pony, flashing on and off in the dark, heavy rain.

They’d been parked for several seconds, and neither had made a move to get out of the car.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, Alex said, “We don’t have to do this, you know.” Forrest smiled, amused. “Seriously, we can go to my place, or – or another bar, or –”

“Babe,” Forrest said calmy, and Alex fell silent. “What’re you going to do, never see your friends again because of me?”

Forrest didn’t sound the least bit mad. On the contrary, he talked to Alex as if he was the cutest thing in the world for worrying. It didn’t make the sting in Alex’s heart any less painful.

“It wouldn’t be because of you,” Alex said. “If they can’t accept who I’m dating –”

“You mean they hate me,” Forrest interjected.

“They don’t _hate_ you. They hate that I’m . . .” he trailed off, his cheeks red at the thought.

Forrest sighed. “They hate that you’re not dating their favorite cowboy.” Alex said nothing. “Michael wants you, and you don’t want him, and that upsets him, which upsets _them_.”

“Right,” Alex muttered. “So, if anything, it’s me they hate.”

He scoffed. “Who on this God-given earth could ever hate _you_?” He covered Alex’s hand with his own. “Listen to me. They can’t bully you into trusting someone you just don’t trust anymore, and they can’t chase us away. If they were really your friends, they would just be happy that you’re happy.” His grip tightened slightly on Alex’s hand, and his smile faltered ever so slightly. “You . . . _are_ happy, right?”

Eager to erase that expression from his boyfriend’s face, Alex leaned over the console and pressed a kiss to his lips. He rested their foreheads together as he exhaled deeply, some of the tension in his chest dissipating at the warm, comforting touch.

“I’m happier with you than I ever thought I was allowed to be,” he said firmly. It wasn’t something Alex Manes usually said, not something that had been met with kindness in the past. But at the blatant, raw love in Forrest’s eyes, the way he followed Alex’s lips, eager for another kiss, Alex couldn’t find it in him to regret a thing.

“I just don’t want them to scare you away,” he confessed quietly.

“ _Hey_ ,” Forrest took his face in his hands. “I’m tougher than I look.”

Alex scoffed half-heartedly. “You look pretty tough already.”

He smirked and kissed Alex again. “Exactly.”

With that reassurance, Forrest stepped out of the car. Alex stared at the neon sign a second longer before he followed. Forrest was at his side in an instant, his jacket raised over their heads. Alex couldn’t help but laugh with him as they hurried out of the storm. They were still smiling widely as they opened the door and stepped into the warmth and old music of the Pony.

Then Alex looked up and his smile dimmed. There he was, having noticed him immediately, was Michael, sitting at the bar. Alex was trapped, unable to look away until he felt an arm come around his waist.

“You smell good,” Forrest said, obviously trying to take Alex’s mind off the inevitable. “Like cake.”

Alex smiled despite himself. He ruffled his own hair, laughing as water fell and hit Forrest’s cheek. “You’re saying I smell like cake?”

“Is that not a complement?”

Alex bit his lower lip and hugged his waist. “Come on, weirdo.”

They both weaved their way through the crowd easily until they reached the bar. Alex had suggested, before they’d left, that they get a table on their own, far away from the others, but Forrest had insisted, “We haven’t done anything wrong, babe. We’re not running away.”

So there they were, taking two empty stools at the bar, only two seats down from Michael who had gone back to staring at his whiskey glass.

Forrest kept his arm around Alex’s waist, keeping him close. “Hey, Guerin,” he said.

Without looking at him, Michael raised his glass. “Forrest.” His knuckles turned white around his glass. “Alex.”

Alex cleared his throat. “Hey.”

They stayed like that, in awkward silence, for a few seconds before Maria came out from the back with several glasses in hand. She momentarily stilled when she saw Alex and Forrest together. Then she glanced at Michael, downing his drink, and turned a sickly sweet smile onto the historian.

“Forrest,” she said. “Good to see you.”

Forrest either didn’t sense the hesitance in her tone or chose to ignore it because he smiled back kindly. “Maria. Can we get a couple of beers?”

“Sure!” and she pulled out two ice-cold bottles from under the counter, handing them each one.

“Uh – how’s business?” Alex asked for lack of anything else to do or say.

“Good,” she said, still glancing at Michael. “Good.” She suddenly snapped. “Hey, uh, Alex, can I talk to you? Uh – in the storage room. Michael, you, too.”

Alex and Forrest glanced at each other, but unlike Alex, Forrest looked like he might laugh. Alex didn’t think it was so funny. He knew Maria would just pretend to guide them to the storage room and lock them in there for a while. Give them time alone to work through whatever she thought they needed to work through. A kiss, and all their problems would end. A kiss, and Alex would suddenly trust Michael again.

 _No_ , Alex thought, clenching his fist. He was so tired of being disappointed by those who promised to always love him and turned their backs on him.

Michael glanced at Alex and began to stand, but Alex said, “Maybe later? You don’t really need us both, right?”

Maria’s eyes narrowed. Michael stilled, as if he couldn’t believe Alex was giving up the chance to be alone with him. He slumped back down in his seat with a scoff, shaking his head, his smirk bitter.

“He’s too busy for his friends,” Michael said. “Right, Alex?”

Something in Forrest’s eyes darkened at his tone. “Easy, Guerin.”

“Wasn’t talkin’ to you, Forrest,” he said.

Alex grabbed his arm. “Forrest, let’s just go,” he said quietly, though he was sure Michael was listening intently enough to hear them.

But Forrest merely brushed Alex’s lips with his thumb and smiled softly. “It’ll be fine, babe.”

Alex gripped him tighter, frustrated. Didn’t Forrest get that Alex didn’t want him to hear any of this? He didn’t want Forrest to feel unwanted, not for a second. He was sure that Michael was fuming behind him, but he didn’t care. He only cared how Forrest felt now.

“Come on,” Alex pleaded, “we can go to my place, and –”

“Hey, buddy!” someone suddenly said, and Alex looked up just in time to see Kyle take the stool next to him. He slung an arm around Alex’s shoulders just as Forrest’s tightened his grip around his waist, as if they wanted to protect _him_ from both sides.

“Uh – hey,” Alex said, startled. “How did you –”

“I called him,” Forrest said easily. “Thought he’d like to spend a night out after his double shift at the hospital.”

“I did,” Kyle huffed. “Real considerate guy you got there, Manes. You really need someone to get on you about taking a break every now and then.” He smiled at Maria. “Right?”

Maria, startled that Kyle and Forrest seemed to be together on this, smiled. “Y-Yeah.”

“Must be a relief for _you_ ,” Kyle went on. “Since you and Liz have been his friends all this time, unlike me. I bet you guys are really glad Alex is so happy now.”

Maria frowned. “But, I mean, Alex doesn’t really need a boyfriend to take care of him.” She gestured at herself and Michael. “He has us.”

Kyle didn’t answer, looking back to Alex with wide eyes as if to say, _Got here just in time, didn’t I?_

Alex started to smile. “Don’t you have an early shift tomorrow?”

“If I can’t be late for you,” he said, “who can I be late for?”

Alex scoffed, shaking his head. Kyle tipped his bottle at a displeased Maria in thanks, and Forrest gave him a wink before kissing his cheek. A glass shattered, but Alex didn’t look.

Half an hour later, Kyle got a call and excused himself for a minute. Alex glanced at Michael, then looked back to his boyfriend. “You good here?”

Forrest nodded, and happily accepted the peck to his lips before Alex walked out. He found Kyle standing against a wall, just hanging up.

“Hey,” he said at spotting Alex. “Get any glass on you?”

Alex winced, leaning his shoulder against the wall. “Guerin . . . has his moments.”

Kyle shook his head. “You’d think he’d be a little nicer to you, considering . . .” He huffed. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again; angry cowboy.”

Alex considered him. “I’m guessing that’s why you showed up tonight? To . . . what, protect me? I’m an air force captain, Kyle, I don’t need protection.”

“This isn’t about protection, Alex,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “It’s about showing you that . . .” he sighed. “That you have someone on your side.”

Alex groaned, rubbing his face with one hand. “I don’t want _sides_. I – I want to be able to get a drink with my boyfriend, and not feel _guilty_ for it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling shakily. “You know? Forrest was right, we didn’t do anything wrong. So . . . so why does it feel like I did?”

Kyle’s lips curled in a half-smile, the weariness not unlike Alex’s own. “Look, man, I’m not gonna tell you how you feel, and true love is lost on me anyway. But if you’re really happy with Forrest –”

“I am.”

“—then what else do you need to know?”

Alex tried to answer that question. _But Maria, but Liz and Isobel and Max, but Michael . . ._ And he realized none of it mattered. Not comparing it to Forrest’s smile, or his warm touch, keeping Alex safe. For the first time, Alex felt so loved that it was like everyone else’s anger around him couldn’t hurt him.

Kyle seemed to hear his thoughts and clasped his shoulder. “Don’t think about it too much. For once, Manes, for this one thing, stop _thinking_ , and just live.” He shrugged a shoulder. “And hey. No matter what happens, you’ve always got me.”

A smile tugged at Alex’s lips. “I do,” he said, brows furrowed. That was one thing he could trust in, he realized. One thing that had been fixed and made stronger with a lot more than a kiss. Something, somehow, a lot more important.

Alex straightened, the weight on his chest lessened and making it easier for him to breathe. “You going back in there?”

Kyle hung his head back, huffing out a white cloud in the chilly night air. “In a minute,” he said. “Those last couple of rounds took a lot out of me. The cold helps wake me up.”

Alex nodded and moved to stand beside him. Kyle peeked an eye open. “What’s up, Manes?”

“I’ll wait with you,” he said, and at Kyle’s raised brow, tilted his head. “You’ve always got me, Valenti.”

Kyle grinned, and nodded. “Good.”

And they stayed there for just another minute, staring out into the storm.


	243. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael writes a song for Alex to sing.  
> The song in question is Coldplay's [A Sky Full of Stars](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zp7NtW_hKJI)

Michael tapped the back of his hand with the piece of paper he’d been clinging to since he left the airstream an hour ago.

He’d barely finished writing down the last of his thoughts, everything he’d been keeping in since long before Alex showed up in front of his airstream with a whole team of air force soldiers.

And he’d given himself ten whole seconds of pacing, of telling himself what a terrible idea it was, before his defenses went out the window and he’d slammed the gas on his way to the Pony. Because it was Open Mic Night. And he’d heard from Isobel that there was one person who was definitely planning to sing.

Not that Michael had tackled him the second he’d opened the doors. No, he’d stayed in the back, staring at Alex in his booth with Kyle, inching closer and closer without realizing he was doing it. As Alex smiled and laughed with Kyle, as Kyle repeatedly touched his arm or ruffled his hair (he was going to _kill_ that doctor someday), Michael had to remind himself that if Alex didn’t want to keep things going with Forrest Long, then he definitely wouldn’t be starting anything up with his straight best friend.

He spotted Liz and Maria at the bar, also glancing at Alex every so often as they shared a secret conversation, but didn’t approach them. The last thing he needed was Alex seeing him around Maria this soon and getting the wrong idea. According to Isobel, Forrest had left some parting words for Alex before heading back to New York. Namely that his friends weren’t really his friends.

When Isobel had asked Alex about it, he’d confessed he felt a little betrayed that Liz had played favorites and Maria had done any of it in the first place. Nothing he hadn’t already told Maria and Liz themselves. Which was why they wouldn’t approach him now. That, and the fact that Kyle seemed to always have an excuse to keep either of them away.

“It’s temporary,” Isobel had told him. “He just wants them to know he’s hurt. But neither of them wants to think they did anything wrong, so it’s taking a little longer.”

If Michael was being completely honest, he felt a little bad for Liz and Maria, but worse for himself. He at least knew he’d hurt Alex, but his problem, unlike the women’s, lied with trust. Alex didn’t think he was anything special to Michael, not after he’d dated his best friend and dismissed him so many times. There was very little Michael could do to prove that the airman mattered more to him than anybody else.

_But this_ , Michael thought, nearly tearing the paper in his nervous grip, _this might fix things._

“. . . Alex Manes.”

Michael blinked. Caught in his own mess of thoughts, he missed the introduction to Alex’s performance. _Move,_ he thought, and without any chance to change his mind, he quickly closed the distance between himself and Alex as Alex headed to the stage.

“Take this,” was his greeting, slipping the piece of paper into Alex’s hand.

Alex frowned. “What’s this?” he asked, and without waiting for Michael’s answer, he unfolded the torn paper and quickly scanned the contents. He blinked, startled, and looked back up at Michael. Something shifted in his expression. “Guerin, what is this?”

Michael held Alex’s gaze, which wasn’t hard since he didn’t think he could look away if he tried. “A song. I – I wrote it. I want you to sing it, Alex.”

Alex clenched his jaw. His dark eyes glistened to bright hazel for just a moment, like he could hear Michael’s song in his ears, feel everything he’d felt as he’d written those words.

“Why me?” he croaked, looking at Michael like he was terrified one word or touch from the cowboy would shatter him.

And for the first time in a year of pretending and trying to be someone he wasn’t, Michael genuinely smiled, helpless and in love. “You know why.”

_Because it’s you. It’s us. And you have to be the one to sing it._

Alex bit his lower lip, hesitant. He glanced back at Kyle who seemed to realize that he was in safe hands. Kyle made a shooing gesture at him to get to the stage. Alex held the paper against his chest, locked eyes with Michael one more time, and went on to the microphone.

He sat at his piano and set the lyrics in front of him. His brows furrowed in that cute way they always did when he was concentrating, and his fingers hovered over the starting notes. Michael didn’t write songs. Science was always his specialty, not heart. But there’d been one or two instances in the past when he’d sat down at his guitar and worked at a melody that was what it is now.

Meeting Alex, in his dark clothes and black eyeliner and all his piercings and beautiful, kind smile and warm eyes, had given him his chorus. Turning his own back on Alex, seeing him happy without Michael, that had given him his verses. The risk of losing him forever had given him words.

He’d never known what to really make of the music he’d made, but when Alex started to sing, all doubt and nerves left his mind. All he could do was listen to his airman. Somehow, he found a chair and thoughtlessly sat down, his eyes never leaving Alex as his fingers flew along the piano keys, as he sung the words into the microphone with the same anguish and hope and _love_ Michael had felt writing them.

As he sung, Michael’s eyes burned. _So we’re still connected_ , he thought. They were beyond a relationship, beyond just two men. They were the entire cosmic universe of stars in one love. They were for each other, and no one else. Anyone who listened to Alex sing now, sing _Michael’s_ words, would know that he was part of another heart, another soul. And Michael would never give him up to anybody. Not ever again.

Alex’s eyes glistened but his voice never wavered, as if he’d been longing to say these same words to Michael, too. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw Liz and Maria staring, Liz’s eyes filled with tears as a few had already escaped Maria’s. Michael saw Liz glance at him and back at Alex, as if seeing them together for the first time.

Michael wondered if they were anything like she’d expected. If they made any sense at all to someone like her, who operated in logic and reason. In what universe, after all, did an air force captain descended from alien hunters and an angry alien cowboy ever fit?

Michael didn’t care. Alex was his, it didn’t matter how. Only that he was.

When Alex played that last note, the bar erupted into cheers. Michael could even hear Kyle applauding behind him and Liz and Maria clapping, too, but Alex didn’t seem to see any of them. His eyes were fixed on Michael.

Michael was at the stage’s side before Alex could even stand. Alex stepped down, closer than an arm’s length away, shaking his head.

“I didn’t know,” he said weakly, as if the song had drained him completely.

Michael swallowed the lump in his throat. He took a step closer. “I didn’t let you.”

Alex noticed and didn’t stop him. He held up the paper. “Can I keep this?”

“It’s yours,” he scoffed. “It’s always been yours.”

Alex pursed his lips. “And you mean it?”

“Every word,” Michael breathed, moving close enough now to press their foreheads together.

Alex exhaled shakily, grabbing Michael’s jacket tightly. “Then why aren’t you kissing me?”

That was all Michael needed. He closed the distance between them, wrapping Alex in his arms without a care to who was watching, and taking his lips in his own. Alex’s hands came up to hold his face, tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Michael might’ve moaned, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to touch more of Alex, taste more of him. If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up again.

Alex’s taste, his warmth, his beautiful tiny whimpers into Michael’s mouth – it was all so overwhelming that Michael wanted to drag him out to the parking lot and take him apart in the backseat of his truck.

Somewhere behind him, he could hear people approaching them, could hear Kyle’s voice saying, “Give ‘em a minute. You can talk to him tomorrow.”

Michael briefly imagined Liz and Maria trying to approach them, then felt the brush of Alex’s tongue against his, and all other thought vanished. _Good,_ he thought at Kyle keeping the others back. He didn’t think he was willing to let Alex go for a single second.

“G-Guerin,” Alex breathed in between kisses as Michael slid a hand around the hem of his shirt. “We can’t – not here –”

Michael took his hand and kissed his fingers roughly, not wanting to be apart from him for even a breath. “Then come on,” he said. “I’m having you. Right now.”

And he pulled Alex towards the door, leaving the noise and conversations to be had behind them, Michael’s song to them between their clasped hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who didn’t know, I’m having an [IG](https://www.instagram.com/rinblackmare/?hl=en) live for the last couple of pages of Heroes Never Die, chapter two. Right now, it’s looking like it might be this Tuesday. I thought it’d be a fun way to connect with you guys, let you see my writing process, etc. (Because so much happens in those last couple of pages). I’ll be writing for most of it, and it’ll be about an hour, but maybe you guys can come along and write with me? It might be fun. And then the following day, hopefully after edits, I can post the second chapter. I’ll keep my IG updated on the exact time, if anyone’s interested.


	244. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex take a road trip to find Mr. Jones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's super short, but I'm exhausted.

“You hungry?” Michael said. “I think there’s a diner a few miles from here.”

“No, thanks,” Alex said.

“Thirsty?” he opened the compartment and offered him a bottle of water.

“Nope.”

Michael, disheartened, shut the compartment and slumped in his seat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat in the passenger seat while someone else drove, and he had no idea what to do with his hands. When he’d told Alex that he’d needed him to take a trip with him outside of Roswell to follow a lead that might’ve helped them with Mr. Jones, he never thought the airman would actually believe him. Not that Michael had lied, but he may have acted a little more sure of his information than he’d actually been.

He and Alex were friends now, weren’t they? They talked and didn’t have sex the second they saw each other and one time Michael had even gotten a laugh out of him (which had made him need to sit down, but that was aside from the point). That was friendship, right? So then, why didn’t Michael know the first thing to say to him when they were alone? Why was it, that after almost two hours of just staring at Alex’s profile, taking in the beautiful purse of his lips, his long lashes, his dark straight hair and the way it curled perfectly around his ear, that he didn’t know how to tell him he liked him?

He felt like a teenager. He felt ridiculous. And he was pretty sure Alex knew how ridiculous he was being and had mercifully decided not to mention it.

After a few more miles, Michael said, “You want me to take over? If your leg’s hurting?”

“I’m fine,” Alex said.

Michael’s head fell back with a sigh. “Great,” he muttered.

“What?”

He shook his head. He was starting to wonder if asking Alex to come along on this trip with him wasn’t a bad idea – he had considered just asking him to dinner, but he doubted his enticing conversation skills would’ve kicked in then either – when Alex pulled over to the side of the road. The long stretch of black was empty with desert plains on either side.

Michael looked up as Alex turned off the ignition and tilted his head at him. “What?” he said. “You think I can’t tell when something’s bothering you?”

Michael felt a heat rise to his cheeks. It shouldn’t have affected him that Alex could tell when he was upset, that Alex _cared_ enough to stop a trip to unearth a psychotic alien, but knowing that didn’t stop the flutter in his chest and the pounding in his ears. Alex’s smile was so gorgeous. Had Michael ever told him that before? He was gorgeous.

He shook his head. “I just thought . . . this would be different.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “Do you want to drive?”

“ _No_ , Alex,” he sat up, running a hand through his hair. “The last time you and I left town together, Valenti was with us in the car. I thought that was why you didn’t really talk to me. But now . . . there’s no Valenti. You just won’t talk to me.”

“I . . . don’t know what to say,” Alex said. “You _want_ me to talk to you?”

He frowned. “Are you kidding me? Why do you think I asked you to come on a pointless road trip in the first place?”

Alex heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. You knew it was pointless.” At Michael’s look, he explained, “I looked into that lead you had, and I just hit a dead end. But it was nothing I couldn’t check from a computer in Roswell, we didn’t need to go anywhere.”

“Why didn’t you just say so?”

Alex shrugged, his own cheeks tinted red. Michael swallowed. How was it that he looked gorgeous _blushing_ , too? “I . . . wanted to be with you. Even if it did get us nowhere.”

A smile tugged at Michael’s lips. “Well, I wouldn’t say _nowhere_.”

Alex huffed a chuckle and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. Michael watched with barely concealed interest as each perfect strand stuck up or fell back down over his brow.

“Is there even a point to this road trip now?” Michael asked, his heart beginning to thud painfully in his chest at the thought of what he was about to do. He sat up.

“No,” Alex scoffed. “I guess not.” He sighed. “Should I turn back around, or –”

Alex fell silent as Michael grabbed his hand, keeping him from starting the car. “We’re parked at the side of the road,” he said. “No one’s around for miles. No one’s supposed to be calling either of us.”

Michael dared risk a glance at Alex to see his eyes had darkened with realization. “Yeah?”

Michael licked his lips. “We’re not gonna have a lot of other chances to be completely alone.”

Alex bit his lower lip. “But are you sure it’s the right thing to do right now?” he asked, even as his legs spread a little wider, as he turned his hand under Michael’s and gripped his fingers back.

 _Screw it,_ Michael thought, exhaling sharply. He closed the distance between them, climbing onto Alex’s lap. Alex’s hands instinctively went to his waist, keeping him steady and keeping him _close_. Michael’s heart was hammering.

 _You’re so beautiful_ , he wanted to say. _You smell so good, you_ feel _so good, I’m so in love with you I think it’ll kill me._

“Who cares?” Michael breathed instead, gripping Alex’s face tightly, his fingers digging into the soft strands at the nape of his neck. “I’ve wanted to do this all week.”


	245. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael realizes he's never seen Alex sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! 🌹🍫❤

Michael had known this would be a bad idea. Not exploring the caves where they thought Mr. Jones might’ve been hiding, but bringing Alex along. But Max and Isobel had insisted (“We need him, Michael,” they’d said), and Alex had refused to let them go in without his help (“You need me, Guerin,” he’d said), and Michael had been outnumbered.

So Alex had come, and Michael had stayed close, alert for any threat. But even as the hours passed, even as they got deeper and deeper into the caves, nothing happened. Michael saw Alex grab the wall every so often like his leg pained him, but the man had the agility of a cat. Where Isobel was tripping and holding onto Alex’s arm for leverage (something that absolutely did not leave Michael seething), Alex was carrying on a whispered conversation with Max without even looking in front of him, completely unbothered.

In fact, it was sometime far past midnight when Max suggested they rest for the night, and that was only because he and his siblings were getting tired. Alex merely pinched the bridge of his nose, like trying to clear away a headache, and offered to take first watch.

“I’ll wake you up if I see anything,” he said.

Max and Isobel nodded and closed their eyes. Michael couldn’t. He came to sit beside Alex, pulling his knees up to his chest, and Alex smiled wearily. Michael noticed him subtly rubbing small circles into his knee, just above the prosthetic.

“Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he said.

Michael pursed his lips and nodded. “Of course you are.” Alex scoffed, his smile widening as he ducked his head. “What?”

When Alex looked up, Michael saw that his cheeks were tinted pink, even in the dim light of their flashlights. “It’s weird. You’re worried about me, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.” He shook his head. “It’s just weird.”

Michael frowned. “No, I . . .” he started and trailed off. He wanted to remind Alex of the time he’d been kidnapped, of the way Michael had fought like hell to get him back . . . and then . . . left him alone with his kidnappers . . .

Michael sat back, thinking. _Had_ he ever told Alex how worried he’d been about him? How he’d felt like he’d been dying without him there? How he would’ve given his powers and bunker and everything he had away just to get him back, safe and sound? He idly pulled at a thread on his jeans.

“I can take first watch,” he offered. “I’m not that tired.”

But Alex only gave him that polite grin that didn’t reach his eyes and repeated, “I’m fine.”

Michael shifted, moving closer. He didn’t know why he needed to be closer, to assure himself that Alex was warm and safe here with him and that he wasn’t drifting away as he always seemed to be. Michael wasn’t satisfied until their arms touched. Alex glanced at him and said nothing.

“Seriously,” he said more quietly, unable to look away from Alex’s jaw, or the way his hair fell over his brow, or his hand as it ran up and down the length of his right thigh. He hesitated, then reached out and touched Alex’s chin, turning his head so their eyes would meet. He let his hand rise up Alex’s jaw, his thumb brushing the airman’s cheek. Alex’s eyes fluttered shut momentarily before they opened again, dark and focused on Michael.

Michael very gallantly resisted the urge to smush their faces together.

“Rest,” he said. “I’ll wake you up first if anything happens.”

Then Alex did something that surprised him. His smile softened, like he thought Michael was the cutest, sweetest, silliest thing in the world, and he took his wrist. He kissed Michael’s palm, which instinctively had Michael leaning in closer, and said –

“Guerin, when have you _ever_ seen me sleep?” he said in a helpless, fond whisper.

Michael’s brows furrowed as he considered the question. Alex let him go and rested his head back against the rocks. It was ridiculous. He’d seen Alex sleep plenty of . . .

He thought back. When _was_ the last time he’d seen Alex sleep? Every time they’d slept together, he’d woken up to Alex kissing down his chest or running his fingers through his curls or his head in between Michael’s thighs. (Michael didn’t linger on that thought too much.) He always assumed that the military had just trained Alex to wake at the crack of dawn. Now, he wondered how much more damage it had really done.

“You don’t sleep?” he said. “At all?”

“Of course I sleep, Guerin,” he laughed. “I’d die if I didn’t, I just . . . don’t need as much of it as everyone else does.”

Michael didn’t think any of this was very funny. “How much?”

Alex shrugged a shoulder. “An hour? Two?” At Michael’s look, he bumped their foreheads together. “Really, Guerin, it doesn’t bother me. I’ve gotten used to it, I’m –”

“Fine,” Michael finished. “Right.”

He hated this. He hated that Alex was so resigned to being tired all the time, to learning to work in spite of it, to living with nightmares around the clock. He deserved so much more than that, so much _better_.

An idea occurred. He brought an arm around Alex’s shoulders, startling him, put his fingers in his soft hair, and laid his head down on his shoulder. Alex was very still, the military man in him alert and tense.

“G-Guerin, what –”

“Just stay here, Private,” he murmured into Alex’s hair, one hand rubbing his thigh softly while his other ran down Alex’s side, shielding him from the chill of the caves. “I need to feel you.”

_I need to know you’re with me, I need to know you’re safe, I need to know that I can keep you warm. I need to know that I can help you, especially when the rest of the world can’t._

If Alex heard his thoughts, he didn’t comment. Instead he sighed, his body settling more comfortably against Michael’s. “This isn’t gonna put me to sleep, y’know.”

Michael smiled into his hair. His words were already slurring, his eyes fluttering as he snuggled more deeply against Michael’s side.

“That’s okay, baby,” he said against Alex’s brow, inhaling his sweet vanilla scent. He tightened his hold on him, pulling him unbearably close. It made Alex’s eyes close. “I’ll take first watch. Just stay next to me.”


	246. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael calls Alex a babe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really want Michael to call Alex a babe.

Michael licked his lower lip as he followed Alex at the bar with his eyes, laughing with Isobel. His glass sat almost empty at his side as his gaze fell to Alex’s strong thighs, his long fingers, his breathtaking smile.

Whether it was alcohol or the knowledge that Alex was finally single after _months_ of being touched by another man, Michael didn’t know, but Alex was a little too close now, and he was feeling reckless.

He downed the rest of his glass, and walked up the two stools between him and the airman. Alex was saying something to Isobel (even his _voice_ had Michael wanting to crawl into his lap), and Isobel raised a curious brow at her brother.

Michael ignored her though, leaning in until his lips were pressed to the shell of Alex’s ear. “You’re a babe,” he whispered.

Alex blinked. He looked more surprised at Michael’s words than his sudden appearance. “ _What_?”

Michael bit his lower lip, fixing his belt. He tilted his head, smirking. “You’re a _babe_. I ever tell you that? How hot you are?” he reached up, cupping Alex’s jaw with one hand, his thumb brushing his cheek. Alex’s eyes were wide. Isobel turned away, her lips pressed together as if trying not to laugh.

Michael leaned in. “I wanna take you home tonight. You want that?” he nuzzled Alex’s nose. “Wanna go back to my place and let me take you apart?”

“Wow,” Isobel said mildly. “Someone’s drunk.”

Alex pulled Michael’s hand down by his wrist. “How much have you had?”

Michael moved closer, inhaling as he dragged his nose along Alex’s cheek, his jaw. “Who cares?” be breathed. _Damn, Alex smelled_ good _._ “C’mon, Alex,” he said, knowing it sounded like a whine and not caring. “Let me touch you. Let’s go into the bathroom, I can make you feel good in there.”

“Wow,” Alex repeated, his brows knit. “Someone’s _really_ drunk.”

“Drunk or not,” Michael said, “you know I want you.”

Alex pushed Michael back gently by the shoulders, his dark eyes narrowed. His pupils were blown wide and he swallowed like it was difficult for him to speak. Michael’s grin widened.

“You want me, too, huh?” Michael took one of Alex’s hands and pressed it to his own chest, right where the flannel opened and gave way to his chest hair. Alex forced his eyes away, but Michael wouldn’t have it. He gripped Alex’s chin and turned his head so that he could meet his gaze.

“Tell me,” Michael breathed, leaning in close enough that Isobel shouldn’t have been able to hear. “Tell me you wanna touch me, Alex. I wanna hear you say it.”

“S-Stop it, Guerin,” he said. “We’re in public.”

That woke Michael slightly. His grin faltered. “You kissed Forrest in public.”

Alex searched Michael’s face, the two staring at each other for a long minute, before Alex sighed and stood suddenly. His hand fell from Michael’s wrist to his fingers, gripping them tightly.

Michael watched with a frown as Alex used his free hand to pull a twenty from his pocket and give it to an amused and not at all surprised Isobel.

“What’re you doing?”

Alex looked back at Michael, licking his lips slowly as his eyes raked his body. Michael felt hot all over, the fire in his stomach burning throughout every inch of him, begging him to get closer to Alex, to feel him properly.

“The cabin,” Alex said. “We won’t be bothered there.” He held out his free hand when Michael opened his mouth, though he had no idea what he’d say. “Keys. You’re not driving anywhere.”

Wordlessly, his eyes still on Alex’s, Michael took out his truck’s keys and put them in the airman’s hand.

“Really?” he managed, the hopeful lilt in his voice evident to his own ears.

Alex softened and leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Michael’s lips that had him whimpering, all but crowding Alex against the bar as he chased his mouth, eager for more.

“Cabin,” Alex repeated breathlessly, handing Isobel the keys to his own car without looking at her. Isobel wordlessly took them, no longer looking at either of them. Michael didn’t know why and didn’t care, already leading Alex out of the bar.


	247. Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Michael Trevino's recent IG story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I expect many other things are going on in this scene, if it's what I hope it is, but I just wanted some angst and fluff, so...

“Please stop pacing,” Alex sighed, his arm over his eyes. “It’s making me dizzy.”

“Where the hell is Valenti?” Michael muttered. “He’s been gone forever.”

“He’s been gone five minutes, and – _hey_ ,” he grabbed Michael’s sleeve, stilling him. “Seriously, knock it off.”

Michael swallowed, staring at Alex as he brought his hand down to his stomach, his left leg swinging idly off the edge of the bed. He was trying not to look like he was in pain, but Michael could see his chest rising and falling a little too quickly, like he was trying not to breathe too deeply. Acid burned at the back of Michael’s throat.

“I didn’t mean to, Alex,” he said, the desperate plea in his voice to know, to _understand_ , evident to his own ears. “I – I didn’t think – I didn’t see you – if I had –”

“Shh,” Alex took Michael’s hand, silencing him. His brows were furrowed like he had a headache and his lips pinched at the corner. “I’m fine,” he said. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Michael’s lower lip trembled. He’d just been frustrated, throwing things around his bunker. His star projections hadn’t been aligning right and his calculations hadn’t been adding up and the memory of Alex and Forrest together at the Crashdown that morning haunted every corner of his mind and pissed him off more. In all the commotion, he hadn’t heard Alex climb down the ladder, hadn’t heard him calling his name, hadn’t realized it was his hand on his shoulder until he’d lashed out and his powers had gotten away from him. Until he’d heard Alex’s wince of pain as his back hit the wall, hard, and Michael had seen him fall.

Everything had turned silent then. Michael could say nothing but Alex’s name on his lips, shocked and horrified by what he’d done. Alex had tried to stand, to insist he was fine, but his voice had been hoarse and his breathing ragged. Michael had right then called Kyle and told him he was bringing Alex to him, his hands trembling.

“Stop, Guerin,” Alex had tried. “I’m _fine_ –”

“Get in the truck, Private!” Michael had snapped. He had hurt Alex. He had _hurt_ Alex. He hadn’t been breathing right since.

Michael knelt by Alex’s bed now, and gently pushed his bangs back from his eyes after a moment’s hesitance. His heart swelled when Alex’s eyes fluttered and he turned into the touch, like these hands hadn’t been the same ones that had put him here.

Michael cupped Alex’s jaw, his thumb brushing his cheek, shivering at the soft and cool skin. Alex had always been colder than him, but Michael always found it an unspeakable comfort, something so inherently Alex that no one else ever compared. No one else could be Alex for him. He’d learned that the hard way.

Alex covered Michael’s hand with his own, sighing deeply into his palm. The only deep breath he’d taken since Michael had thrown him into the wall. He winced as the mental image flashed in his mind.

“Why were you wrecking your bunker anyway?” Alex asked, his eyes still closed.

Michael clenched his jaw. He considered lying only for a second before he realized it was the last thing he wanted to do. Not now.

“I saw you and Forrest together at the Crashdown,” he croaked. “I – I got angry.”

Alex opened his eyes, his brows furrowed. “You were jealous?”

“But I didn’t want to hurt you,” Michael said immediately. “I didn’t even _hear_ you come in, I – I hate myself for what I did to you, Alex, I swear –”

“ _Stop it_ ,” Alex shook his head. “D-Don’t talk like that.”

Michael’s other hand on Alex’s jacket sleeve tightened. “I _hurt_ you –”

“It was an accident,” Alex defended, like he couldn’t stand the thought of even _Michael_ talking bad about his favorite cowboy.

Michael sighed shakily, his eyes burning. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m so in love with you, Alex, I think it’ll kill me.”

Alex shook his head, and for a terrifying second, Michael worried he’d gone too far. But then a smile tugged at his airman’s lips.

“I love you, too,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Which is what I told Forrest before he went back to New York this morning.”

Michael froze. “What?”

Alex kissed Michael’s palm wearily. “Forrest went back to New York. We broke up last week. We were just . . . saying goodbye.”

Michael started to stand. “R-Really?”

“And you would’ve known that,” Alex chuckled, nuzzling Michael’s hand, “if you’d just asked me. Now you have to replace everything in your bunker. All that work – gone. You’re usually smart, how’d you let that happen?”

But Michael didn’t hear that light jab, didn’t care about his things in the bunker, his research. None of it mattered because . . .

“You love me?”

Alex smiled fondly, and not without some exasperation at Michael, like he wasn’t even surprised that Michael had taken away only one line of their conversation.

“C’mere,” he murmured, putting his other hand in Michael’s curls, bringing his head in.

Michael’s mouth hung open in anticipation, his eyes already fluttering shut, but just as his lips brushed Alex’s, he remembered why they were in the hospital in the first place and all but leaped back.

“No,” he breathed, shaking his head. “No, I’ll – I’ll hurt you again.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Guerin –”

“Hey, back away,” were Kyle’s first words as he came in, glaring at Michael. “It’s your fault he’s even in that bed.”

Michael clenched his jaw, pulling his hands away and curling them to fists in his pockets before he could do something he would regret.

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kyle, I already told you, this was an accident.”

“Hey,” Kyle tossed Alex’s file on the end of his bed, “ _you_ might be willing to shrug this off, but I’m not.” He turned his dark eyes on Michael. “And after all that _crap_ you gave me about hurting him when we were kids –"

“I would _never_ hurt Alex,” Michael growled.

Kyle scoffed, clicking a button on a screen, revealing the x-ray of Alex’s chest that he’d taken. Michael flinched. “Sorry, what? I can’t hear you over the scanner.”

“Okay,” Alex tried, “can we just . . . not right now, please?”

Kyle heaved a sigh and sat on the edge of Alex’s bed, pulling his stethoscope from around his neck. Michael wanted to be angry at him, but Kyle’s eyes softened as they fell on Alex again and he helped him sit up. This was Michael’s fault. Whether he’d meant to do it or not, it was all his fault. What if Kyle was right? What if Alex was just too forgiving of him to be as angry as he should be?

“Breathe in,” Kyle said gently. “Breathe out. Again.”

This went on for another few minutes, and Michael knew Kyle wanted to be thorough, but he was losing his mind waiting for some results. Finally, Kyle sat back.

“The good news is you’ve only got a chest bruise,” he said. “You were hit pretty hard –”

“I didn’t hit him!”

“Then the _wall_ did!” he snapped. “With the force you threw him, you could’ve punctured his lung, Guerin!”

“Guys –”

“If I’d known it was Alex, I –”

“You what?” Kyle demanded. “Maybe if you tried to think with your head instead of your ass –”

“ _Please_ –”

“Were you thinking with your head when you made his life a living hell in high school?” Michael tried, but the bite was weak even to him.

Kyle’s barked a laugh. “Yeah, tell me all about that before I take Alex’s file to the nurse.”

“Stop it!” Alex snapped, and collapsed into a fit of coughs. Michael and Kyle fell silent at once, Kyle rubbing soothing circles on Alex’s back as Alex held a hand to his chest.

“Okay, Alex,” Michael managed, his heart breaking with every cough, every wince, every ragged breath. “Okay, baby, I’m sorry. We won’t fight, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Kyle murmured, still rubbing his back. “It’s okay, just breathe. You’re okay.”

Soon, Alex was leaning against Kyle, his eyes closed, his brows pinched as he took shallow breaths.

“M’okay,” he croaked, and Michael turned away before Alex could see him cry. “M’fine.”

“I know,” Kyle said quietly. “I know you are. You should get some sleep though, stay here tonight.”

Michael turned, wide-eyed. “H-He really needs that?”

Some of the venom in Kyle’s gaze seemed to have gone. “Just for observation. He doesn’t really need it, but it’d make me feel better.” A moment of silence and Michael took note of Kyle still rubbing soothing circles into Alex’s back.

“Here,” Kyle said after a while, and Michael blinked. It took him a second to realize that Kyle wanted _him_ to rub Alex’s back. “It helps.”

Michael swallowed, expecting Alex to insist he didn’t need it, but Alex seemed half-asleep already, the pain in his leg and chest and back, and the countless hours waiting weighing heavily on him now. Not wanting Kyle to change his mind, Michael sat down on the bed, on Alex’s other side, and wrapped an arm around his airman’s waist, pulling him in against him.

“Right around here,” Kyle showed a spot down near Alex’s spine, where he’d been hurt the worst, and Michael held his breath as he pressed his fingers to the area. Alex whimpered slightly against Michael’s neck, but his expression soon relaxed as Michael rubbed.

Before he knew it, Kyle was gone, but he didn’t care. Alex was in his arms, sleeping against his chest like he’d always belonged there. Michael thought he always had.

Alex stirred after half an hour. He turned his face into Michael’s shoulder, gripping his jacket. He started to lie down, and Michael was helpless but to follow. In the end, they ended up with Alex curled around Michael’s chest, his breathing gradually turning slower and deeper.

Michael hesitated before he dared press a kiss to Alex’s forehead. “I love you,” he whispered into his hair. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

Alex murmured an incoherent response, snuggling deeper against Michael’s neck, inhaling his scent, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there. And still Michael rubbed his back, holding him tightly, promising him that he wouldn’t let him down again.


	248. Max x Alex & Malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds out Max wants Alex.

Michael’s bones were vibrating, his heart hammering painfully in his throat, his hands clenched to fists no matter how hard he tried to release them. He didn’t think he could, not until he got the answers he wanted.

His brother’s house was quiet, but his car was still parked outside, so Michael knew he was home. If he hadn’t been, Michael would’ve tracked him down through all of Roswell. After what he’d heard, after what he’d discovered, he wasn’t taking chances leaving this alone.

He banged his fist on the front door. “Max! Open up!”

Max opened, his brows furrowed. He had a journal in his hand, his finger bookmarking the page he’d undoubtedly been writing on before Michael came barging in.

“Michael, what the hell –” he managed before Michael swiped his journal, flipping through the pages.

“Were you writing about him?” he demanded. “This – this passage, who’s it about?”

“What are you _doing_?!” Max snatched his journal back. He gripped Michael’s shoulder, stilling him, searching his face. “Are you drunk?”

Michael yanked his arm free, and pointed a threatening finger. “I’m gonna ask you just once, and I want you to tell me the truth.”

Max frowned, shaking his head. “Ask me what?”

Michael swallowed through clenched teeth, every fiber in his being on edge. “Do you . . . want Alex?”

Max faltered. “What?”

The answer was not what Michael had wanted. He licked his lips, hesitance creeping into his own ears as he asked again, “Do you want Alex?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “What’re you talking about?”

Something like a growl or a sob rose up Michael’s throat. “You used a handprint to save Liz. Your feelings transferred to hers –”

“Yeah, so?” Max said. He was trying too hard to pretend it didn’t matter. He wasn’t fooling anyone. “D-Did she say something?”

Michael shook his head. “She wants Alex. She’s wanted him since you saved her.” He took a slow step towards his brother, and saw him glance up warily. When he asked again, his words were quiet and strained. “She thinks it’s funny. Doesn’t know that it’s only an echo . . . of what _you_ feel. So. _Do you want Alex?_ ”

Max tucked his journal into his back pocket before he spoke, which was his mistake. “Michael, come on, I could never –”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” Michael screamed, and both his truck and Max’s car levitated several feet off the ground before crashing back down to the ground. “She’s talking about how – how _sudden_ it all is, and _you’ve_ been weird since you knew about me and Alex.” Max flinched. “See? _See?_ Y-You’re _different_ when it comes to him! Why?”

Max had been staring at the ground as Michael yelled, and only when his brother stood panting, waiting, Max looked up. In a quiet, pained voice, he said, “You know why.”

Michael turned silent, stumbling back like Max had shot him. He felt before he saw the ground shaking, and Max held onto the wall to steady himself. His heart thudded painfully, his eyes burned.

“But, Michael,” Max tried, “I – I’ve never gone near him! I’ve never touched him!”

“Does he know?” Michael demanded. “DOES HE KNOW?!”

“NO!” Max snapped. “No, he has no idea!”

Michael searched Max’s face as if to decide whether or not he believed him. The ground barely stopped shaking before he warned, “If he finds out –”

“So you’re gonna tell him?” Max said. “How _you_ feel, I mean? Wait, hold on, will you do it before or after you break up with Maria? Because you’re still with her, right?”

“What the hell’s your point, Max?” Michael demanded. “If I don’t tell him how I feel, _you’ll_ go after him?”

Max clenched his jaw. “I’ve thought about this a lot, brother. And . . . if you really loved Alex, you wouldn’t have given up on him. You wouldn’t have chosen someone else.”

Michael flinched. “What, like you?”

Max held his gaze. “I stayed away because I knew that you loved him. But – _God_ , Michael, after everything he’s done for us, you can’t even be honest with him! You’ll fight for everyone else before you fight for him, and he doesn’t even expect you to anymore! Doesn’t that kill you? He won’t look twice at me, and it rips me apart! But he loves you so much, with _everything_ he has, and you don’t even care! You can’t see what you have right in front of you!”

“So, what?” he said darkly. “You’re gonna tell him how you feel?”

Max looked around helpless, and exhaled sharply. “I want to. Michael, _I want to._ I want to see . . . what happens –”

“ _What happens_?” he breathed. “What do you _think_ is going to happen, Max? He’ll be your boyfriend? Is that it?”

He hesitated. Then – “I want to find out.”

Michael shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. His voice when he spoke was hoarse. “He won’t love you. Not more than me.”

Max nodded, like it hurt him to do it. “I know. But maybe he could love me just enough.”

*

Michael had not left happy. Max hadn’t expected him to. But he would forgive his brother someday, because if Max had a hair’s chance at being with Alex, then he planned to make him the happiest man alive.

Not that Max actually thought he had a hair’s chance, and Michael had been sure to remind him of that before he’d left, angrier and darker than Max had ever seen him. Max had carried that with him as he’d finished writing the last lines in his heart, the last lines of his love for Alex, and got in his car. He’d spent years holding back his feelings for Michael’s sake, knowing that the pain of being away from the airman and not getting to explore these very strong feelings that he had for him would all be worth it when Michael finally got his happiness.

But years had passed, and Michael had found every excuse not to tell Alex the truth. Even when he’d come back. Even when he’d been right here, in front of him, _wanting_. Michael had still said no and chosen someone else.

Max promised himself he would never take Alex for granted like that. He’d look after him, he’d make him laugh, let him know how appreciated he was.

Then Max neared Alex’s house and found him working in the garden, and all the old doubts returned. All he could think about was Michael, and how betrayed he must’ve felt, and how much happier he could make Alex.

But it was too late to abort. Alex had glanced up the second Max’s car had come in and was starting to stand, his brows furrowed in that way they did when he was preparing for an attack. Max half-wondered if that was how he usually looked when Michael came and was expecting the same of his brother, or if it was a natural reaction he’d come to have to everything.

Then he wondered how anyone could survive with that mentality for so long, and stay as strong as Alex was. His heart leapt slightly.

“Hey,” he said tentatively as he stepped out.

Alex was still watching him warily, dusting his hands off. “Hey. What’s going on?”

Max swallowed. Alex wore nothing but a pair of jeans and a white tank top, sweat lining his chest and making the dark patch of hair visible. His straight, damp hair fell over his eyes, and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. Max briefly imagined licking it away, and had to clear his throat.

“I – uh – I wanted to . . . talk to you . . . about something.”

Alex’s eyes sharpened. “Did something happen to Michael?”

The question made Max step back, shame and embarrassment crawling up his spine. Of course Alex would ask about Michael.

“N-No, uh,” he huffed, “I just need to talk to you.”

“Okay?” his shoulders rested. Max noticed Alex wouldn’t look anywhere but his eyes. What a difference, since Max wanted to look everywhere _but_ Alex’s eyes. “Talk.”

He blushed. “It’s kind of important, Manes.”

Alex raised a brow. “Right. You better come in, then.”

And he led the way into his house. Max smelled wood and vanilla the second he walked in. The fireplace wasn’t lit, but the small space was warm, there were carpets on the floor and deep navy couches. He spotted a journal open on the coffee table, and blinked when he saw his name scribbled in delicate writing.

He reached for the page, but Alex seemed to realize what he was doing and closed the journal at the last second.

“Sorry,” he muttered, hiding the journal from view as he hid it away in a drawer and locked it. “That shouldn’t be out here. Look,” he sighed, “f you want to ask me about Liz –”

“No,” Max said immediately. “No, I’m definitely not here to ask you about Liz.”

Alex frowned. “Uh – please, take a seat.”

So he did. On the couch. And Alex sat at the far end of it, waiting.

“Okay . . .” he took a deep breath. “There’s no real way for me to start this, but I – I want you to know that I’m not expecting anything in return, o-okay? You can kick me out if you want –”

“Max,” Alex cut him off, an amused smile tugging at his lips. Max hated how cute it was. “Spit it out.”

“Right,” he huffed. Then, without time to think, blurted, “I want you.”

Silence. Alex stared at Max, still waiting. Max could hear his own blood rush in his ears, his heart pounding so loudly that he worried Alex might hear it, too. He was just starting to wonder whether Alex had even heard him when the airman began to nervously chuckle.

“What?” He blinked, and shook his head. “Sorry, could you say that again? I don’t think I heard you right.”

Max’s nails were digging into his palms. “No,” he said. “No, you heard me right.”

Alex’s smile fell away. He didn’t look angry or confused or like he pitied Max. He didn’t look anything like Max thought he would. Instead, he looked nervous.

“You . . .” he cleared his throat. “You want me to do what?”

“N-Nothing,” Max said. “I just . . . want you.”

Alex was blinking way too quickly. “Uh – l-like . . . sexually?”

He exhaled shakily. “Yeah.” A pause. “Please say something.”

“I-I’m thinking, this is just a little . . . unreal. What about Liz?”

“I tried with Liz,” he quietly confessed. “I really did, but . . . there’s something about you – I – I’ve never been able to get you out of my head, Alex. Not since high school.”

“ _High school_?” Alex stood and started pacing. “Uh – s-sorry, I just – I need a second –”

“Take your time!” Max was quick to reassure him. And so they spent the next few minutes like that, with Max staring at Alex’s carpet, glancing up at the airman every so often to find him rubbing the nape of his neck or muttering to himself. Max almost asked him to sit down, to go easy on his leg, but caught himself. Advice from him was definitely not something Alex wanted _now_.

Finally, Alex sat down right in front of Max, so close that their knees touched.

“Are you saying,” he said carefully, his eyes dark, “that you . . . you want to . . . sleep with me?”

“Yes,” Max said at once. Then, “No.” He shut his eyes and stood. “Damn it, Alex. I want to sleep with you, but I don’t want to _just_ sleep with you. I – I want to make you breakfast, and fall asleep with you on the couch watching tv, and – and protect you from homophobic assholes in town. I . . . I want to . . .”

“To be with me,” Alex finished, realization dawning. He stood. “That’s what you’re trying to tell me? That you want us to be boyfriends?”

Max couldn’t look away from him. “Is that so bad?”

“Bad? No. Shocking? Hell yeah.” He turned away, running a hand through his hair. Max’s eyes fell to the nape his neck, the line of sweat down his back.

He clenched his jaw. “I know I’m not Michael,” he said, his voice low. “I know you could never love me like that –”

“Love?” Alex breathed, turning around. He shook his head. “You love me?” Max didn’t answer, but he didn’t seem to need to. “This can’t be happening,” he muttered, sitting down. “This isn’t happening.”

Max’s heart was in his throat. He knelt in front of Alex, but didn’t dare touch him. “Alex, I’m – I’m sorry. I told you, I’m not expecting you to do anything, I know you couldn’t love me, I _know_ that, but –”

Alex suddenly crashed their mouths together, cutting Max off. Max managed a whimper before Alex slid from the couch and onto his lap, his own hands coming up to instinctively grip Alex’s hips.

When they pulled back to breathe, Max managed one word, “Alex –”

“Don’t, just –” Alex kissed him again. “Just touch me. We can hate ourselves later, just – _please_.”

Max should’ve argued. He should’ve told Alex that they couldn’t hate themselves for how they felt, what they wanted. But he couldn’t be sure how Alex felt. Maybe he just needed to be touched. Maybe, worst of all, he just wanted Michael, and Max was as close as he was going to get. It didn’t matter if this was the one time Max would be allowed to have him. He wanted him. He’d take sex over nothing.

“Okay,” he breathed, slipping a hand under Alex’s shirt, his mouth watering at the soft, hot, damp skin. “Okay.”

And he pulled Alex in again, kissing him roughly, eagerly. Alex’s mouth opened against his and he slipped his tongue in like it was something he’d been used to doing. He slid a hand into Alex’s hair, moaning at the soft strands between his fingers.

It felt strange, pressing his mouth to another man’s, but knowing it was Alex, the same Alex he’d never been able to help but glance at even when they were younger, excited him in a way he’d never felt with anyone else. He wanted to tear off Alex’s clothes, push him onto his back, and thrust into him until he had nothing left. Until Alex said no one else’s name but his.

He did as he wanted, resting Alex down on the carpet. He kissed down his throat, and grinded their hips together. Alex’s small moans made him groan, fueling him on. He sat back enough to slip his jeans down, and came down into Alex’s waiting arms, their chests pressed together. Neither of them looked down at what was happening between their hips as Max thrusted into him, but they each held on. Alex pushed his hips up in rhythm to Max’s thrusts, panting into the crook of his neck.

The hours passed, and Max and Alex didn’t stop touching each other. They couldn’t. Alex held onto Max like he never wanted to let him go. There were a million different reasons for it, Max knew there had to be. But for that time that they spent together, before exhaustion came, Max wanted to fall asleep with Alex on his chest, believing that they were, just for a short while, both in love.

*

Alex woke first, because he always did. He’d found himself face-to-face with Max, sleeping and rested in a way he didn’t normally look. Alex figured they should really move to the bedroom at some point – the clothes on the floor and the carpet not the softest surface for his leg – but at the moment, he was too busy tracing Max’s cheek with his finger, his nose, his lips.

He smiled, though something nagged at his heart in a way he couldn’t explain. His answer came as a knock at the door.

Carefully, he moved Max’s arm from his waist, biting his lower lip as he quickly, and as quietly as he could, pulled on his prosthetic and jeans. He opened his front door as he pulled on his shirt, just pulling it down over his eyes as Michael met him on the porch. The cowboy stared at his naked skin until it was covered. Alex blushed.

“Hey,” he said.

“Alex,” Michael greeted, looking over Alex’s shoulder into the house, but Alex was already closing the door. He clenched his jaw. “Why is Max’s car here?”

Alex licked his lips, crossing his arms. “Because he’s here.”

Michael’s eyes flicked back to his stomach, as if remembering what he looked like without his shirt on. “Why?”

His tone indicated he knew exactly why.

“Leave it alone, Guerin,” he said. “Walk away before you do something stupid.”

“He told you,” Michael smirked, but there was nothing remotely funny in his expression. “He told you about his crush, and you caved.”

“I’ve wanted to kiss him for a long time,” he quietly confessed, and Michael faltered. “I finally got to. This was as much for me as it was for him.”

Michael began to chuckle, disbelieving. “This is – this is a joke. You and _Max_?”

“Please, stop it –”

“Why you?!” Michael demanded, his eyes glistening with tears. “Why, of everyone on this damn planet, did he have to pick YOU?!”

Alex waited until Michael was done panting to say, “Because you wouldn’t.”

Michael stilled, the world stopped shaking, and Alex was able to stand without holding onto the doorframe. “That’s not true.”

Alex shook his head. “I tried, Michael. I really did. But nothing was ever enough. And – and Max was the first person after Kyle changed who was ever kind to me. I – I’ve wondered what it would be like to be with him, and you know what? I want to try.”

“ _I_ want to be with you!”

“Is that why you’re still with Maria?” Alex demanded, his own eyes burning. “Or why, even after I broke up with Forrest, you _still_ wouldn’t come talk to me? Or why you left me alone while I was pouring my heart out to you in a bar full of cowboys?”

“Alex . . .” Michael looked lost, like he’d never expected the kind of damage he’d caused on Alex. It made things so much worse. He’d never cared about Alex long enough to see the way he was hurting him.

“You have no right to be here now,” Alex said. “You have no right to want me, Guerin, or to touch a hair on Max’s head for having the guts to do what you never did. Go back to your girlfriend, and leave me alone.”

“Alex –”

“Leave, Guerin,” Alex said, turning away from Michael as he opened his door to head back in. To keep Michael out. “I don’t want to see you again.”

“ _ALEX!_ ”

Michael sat up in his bed, grasping at the air. He was breathing heavily, his heart hammering painfully. The sky outside was black, the night air cold, but Michael was sweating. His nightmare flashing in his mind, repeating the words _“I don’t want to see you again”_ in Michael’s ears, he fished his jeans off the floor quickly, pulled out his phone, and dialed Alex’s name.

The phone rung three times, and Michael clenched his jaw, already imagining driving down to the airman’s house to see him for himself.

Then the call connected, and Alex’s sleepy, but alert voice sounded. “Guerin?”

“Alex,” Michael breathed. “My Alex. Are you sleeping with Max? You’re not, right? Y-You’re not?”

A moment of silence. Then –

“Are you drunk?”

Michael huffed a chuckle, the bad dream already fading away to the back of his mind, disintegrating to ash and flying away in the wind. _Good riddance_ , Michael thought with no small amount of relief.

“No,” he said. “No, I – I thought . . .” he shook his head. “Bad dream. Really, _really_ bad dream.”

Michael heard some rustling on the other end, and pictured Alex sitting up against his headboard.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, wiping a tired hand over his face, but unable to stop smiling. “Yeah, I’m okay, baby.”

More silence. Alex and Forrest had only broken up two weeks ago, after all. He and Michael definitely didn’t call each other _baby_.

Michael worried he’d frightened Alex off for a minute, but then Alex asked, “You want to tell me about it?”

“No,” he said right away, and slumped against his pillow. He clenched the blanket in his hand, and confessed, “I just want to curl up with you in bed and go back to sleep.”

A pause. Alex sighed. “You know how to get in. I’ll keep the hallway light on for you.”

Michael sat up straight. “R-Really?”

Alex hummed, and Michael swung his legs off the edge of the bed. He scoffed. “Am I sleeping with your brother – are you kidding me?”

Michael groaned as he rapidly pulled his jeans on and pushed his feet into his boots. “Don’t talk about it, please.”

Alex giggled, the sound bringing a warmth to Michael’s chest and erasing the last of his troubles.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://pastelwitchling.tumblr.com/)   
>  [my twitter](https://twitter.com/rinblackmare)   
> 


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